


The College Student's Guide to Sex and Stage Plays

by lady_flash, nottherealmontynewton



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Epilepsy, Falling In Love, First Kiss, First Time, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Making Out, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Alternating, Seizures, Strong Language, canon typical self loathing, no really brace yourself, percy is awkward as hell in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:55:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29264643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_flash/pseuds/lady_flash, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nottherealmontynewton/pseuds/nottherealmontynewton
Summary: Upon hearing that Percy Newton, whom he shares a class with, is struggling with a crush, Henry "Monty" Montague suggests he teaches him the ways of love and romance. He never expects to actually be taken up on it.
Relationships: Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton, Simmaa "Sim" Aldajah/Johanna Hoffman
Comments: 22
Kudos: 23





	1. An Open Offer

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! We're so glad to be posting this fic. We're taking things in a little bit of a different direction but we're both very much enjoying this concept and hope you will too!

**PERCY**

I’ve never understood the appeal of stage acting. I can’t think of anything worse than standing centre stage, _literally_ under a spotlight, thousands of eyes on me, waiting for me to speak.

Today is the first day of Modern Orchestra, and our first project is to design a musical accompaniment to Modern Theatre’s original play. We’ve already practiced some standards and now I’m watching the theatre students from the side of the stage with a morbid fascination.

I recognise a couple of them from school, due to the fact all of the queerest kids from my year, myself included, gravitated to Brighton University in the hope of living it up in the gayest city in the country. 

Johanna, the disgustingly delightful girlfriend of my fellow band-nerd and long time best friend Sim, is currently demonstrating some interpretative dance moves for an already smitten-looking classmate. Another old classmate, a lad who I’m struggling to remember the name of, is effortlessly flirting with a handsome red headed boy, leaning casually against an old set piece and giving him a lopsided grin.

Johanna looks over at me and I frown, realising how creepy I must look, standing on the sidelines and studying these normal human interactions as if I’m watching a chimpanzee enclosure at the zoo. 

She grins at me and waves, because of course she does, so I lift my hand to wave back when I feel someone bump into me. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you–”

“Oh, that’s alright, I–” I turn, and immediately freeze. _Shit. It’s August._ “I…”

“Oh, hi! Percy, right?” He puts his hands in his pockets and smiles at me. “I’m August.” _As if I don’t know._ “We’ve shared a few classes already, I believe?”

Oh my God, he’s _aware_. He’s… noticed me? In what classes? Why has he noticed me? Did I do something weird? Oh, no. Am I standing out? Am I–

I realize I’ve been gaping at him for a while when his smile turns awkward. “Are you… alright?”

“I–” I force out, “I, um.” I swallow. “You… play nice.” When I realize that makes little sense on its own, I point at his cello, standing behind him.

He looks back. “Oh. Oh! Thank you. I haven’t heard you play yet, but I’m sure you’re great.” He smiles, and I suddenly get very distracted by his freckles. “Well, see you around.”

And with that, he leaves with a cute little wave, heading over to talk to some of the other orchestra kids.

“Smooth.”

I start. I hadn’t heard Sim approach at all, so when I find her grinning at me with her arms crossed, I go red entirely. “It wasn’t that bad,” I say, which is a lie, and we both know it.

“It was awful,” Sim says. “Almost sad, really. Like middle-schooler-with-a-crush levels of pathetic.”

I bury my face in my hands. “Kill me, Sim. Put me out of my misery.”

“Nope. This is too entertaining.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Be less pathetic at flirting.”

I slink down onto a chair, hugging my violin case to my chest. “I’m going to be an old spinster and die alone, Sim.”

“You are.”

“Not helping.”

She pats me on the shoulder. “Know what, we gotta get you out more. There’s this party tonight, you should come.”

“Can’t. I want to keep up with homework.”

“Boo. You’re a boring, boring person, Newton. I don’t know why we’re friends.”

“You’re too good for me.”

“Indeed. But lucky for you I am your benevolent friend, so I’m going to help you.” At that, she raises an arm and calls, “Hey! August!”

I panic but try to hide it. “What are you doing?” I hiss at her.

Unfortunately, August is already coming over. He looks between us in question, still with a good-natured smile on his face, and I want to leap out of a window.

“Hey, Sim,” he says. “What’s up?”

“You know about the party tonight? At Theo’s?”

“Yeah?”

“Percy and I are gonna be there. You coming too?”

I look at her in shock, trying to convey she should _cut it out_ without looking like an idiot.

August, damn him, just shrugs. “I might. See you there?”

“Yes, you will.” Sim smirks, eyeing me from her peripheral. “Won’t he, Percy?”

“I... yes. Yes, he will.” He glances at me, and I hope I’m imagining the glint of pity in his eyes. “If he goes, I mean. If you go. Ha! I’m talking about you like you’re not here. You said you _might_ go. So– so, we might see you there. If you go.”

I can actually _feel_ the incredulous look Sim is shooting at the side of my face, so I decide the most sensible option is to avoid her gaze. Forever, if it’s at all possible.

August just nods, giving me what can only be described as an extremely tolerant and polite smile. I wonder if it would be too weird to climb under this chair and hide.

He wanders back to his friends and I finally work up the courage to look back at Sim.

“We’re going,” she says. And I know from the tone of her voice that it’s not a request.

I sigh. “Sim, I really just want to stay–”

“ _We’re going._ I swear to God, if you finish this semester without at least _attempting_ to get deflowered, you’ll be in the market for a new best friend.”

I pull a face. “Deflowered? Am I a Victorian society lady now?”

“Save your piss-poor attempts at wit for tonight.”

At times like this, I wonder why we’re friends. Then I realise that without Sim, I would literally stew alone in my dorm room for the entire year, watching the tamest porn I can find (I embarrass too easily) and watching everyone else having actual fun on my Instagram feed.

“Fine.”

Fuck. What do I wear?

  
  
  


The party is… pretty much what I was expecting. A typical student house (or at least I assume it’s typical, it’s the first one I’ve ever seen) but with added Brighton-y touches. Several Pride flags hung on the walls alongside Urban Outfitters tapestries. Strong incense smells wafting through the air, poorly concealing the scent of weed.

It’s not too crowded, and after a couple of beers, I’m feeling marginally less uncomfortable than I did when we first walked in. I’m still uncomfortable of course, as it’s pretty much my default setting.

Sim has disappeared with Johanna, probably to grope in a quiet corner somewhere. I comfort myself by thinking _at least they’re not doing it right in front of me for once_ , but after about twenty minutes of awkwardly standing alone, I start to think watching my best friend make out with her girlfriend all night might actually have been preferable.

I sigh and go over to a table where someone has generously laid out some communal booze, picking up another bottle of beer and a bottle opener. I turn back, considering trying to find someone from one of my classes for some stilted small talk when someone bumps into me.

(Is this going to be my only method of human interaction at university? Clumsily colliding with people?)

“Shit! Oh! Hi! Percy, isn’t it?”

I look up to see one of the theatre students I was watching earlier. The flirtatious one with the dimples. He gives me an approving up and down look, like he’s decided I’m attractive enough to be worth speaking to, which makes me scowl slightly.

“Hi. Yeah.” He smiles at me and I try desperately to remember his name. “Uhm…”

“Oh, ouch! I’ve been forgotten!”

“I’m not sure we’ve ever actually… met.” It suddenly comes to me. “Henry?”

“Absolutely not.” He holds out his hand. “Monty.”

I shake it. “Right. Sorry. Henry Montague.”

“Please stop calling me Henry.” He lets go and looks at the drinks table, grabbing a bottle of gin to top up his cup. “See, I knew I was unforgettable.”

“Apparently so.” I watch him, wondering if I can just leave, when he turns back to me, looking expectant. “You were in my year, right?”

“I was! And you…” He tilts his head. “...were the last person to come out before sixth form ended. I kept track of all of the school queers. Bit of a hobby.”

I blush slightly. “You kept track of me?”

“Only from a distance!”

“Right. Well.” I motion to the other side of the room. “I should probably go fi–”

He cuts in. “So! How’s your love life now you’re out and proud?” 

He casually sips on his gin and looks at me, waiting for an answer. I’m so surprised by how personal the question is, that I do nothing but give him an open-mouthed stare for several seconds.

He grimaces. “That bad?”

“Wha.. no! It’s… _fine_!” I swig my beer, turning slightly red. “It’s also none of your business.”

“Okay, okay! Just making conversation, Perce.” He nudges me slightly. “But if you ever need any tips on who to avoid, who has herpes, that sort of thing…”

“Very kind of you. Thanks.”

Now that we’re speaking, I’m putting together my vague school memories of Monty, and the fact he’s already starting to put together a list of who has STIs, one week into the university year, doesn’t surprise me.

Across the room, a few people move aside as a new group enters the scene. As I’m in the middle of taking another swig, I realize that it’s August and his friends. I choke on my drink and turn to face the table, praying that he won’t recognize me.

Monty watches me studiously as I cough and wipe the spilt beer off my chin. A grin tugs at his lips. “Maybe the love life isn’t that bad after all.”

I resist the urge to crawl under the table and stay there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But it rather loses effect as choked up as my voice sounds.

“Aw, you can talk to me, darling.” _Darling._ Is that just a general thing he says, or does he think we’ve bonded because he’s made fun of my ineptitude to deal with a crush? “So which one is it?”

“What?” I turn around again, following his line of sight back to the group. “None of them! Leave me alone!”

“Oh, I see, the one with the freckles.” He keeps eyeing August in amusement. “Personally I think your freckles are cuter, but you’re right, he _is_ a sight.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” I hiss, then realize my mistake when he looks at me from his peripherals and his grin widens. “That was _not_ a confession. He’s just– I just think he’s nice, so you shouldn’t— _why_ am I still talking to you?”

“Because otherwise you’d be on your own and your crush might think you’re a sad little loner, effectively reducing your chances.” He takes a long sip to mark the end of his sentence, looking _way_ too smug. “I’m just teasing you, darling. But really, I can help!”

I narrow my eyes at him.

“My reputation must have preceded me. I’m an excellent flirt. I’m great at other things too.” At that, he suggestively waggles his eyebrows.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t need any help, thank you very much. I’m perfectly capable—if I want to go over there,” I tip my chin in August’s direction, “and ask him out, then that’s exactly what I’ll do.”

He crosses his arms. “Okay. Then do it.”

My heart vaults. August is talking to his friends, laughing at something one of them said. He looks beautiful, even in the dimmed light. He’s nice. He’s a genuinely nice person. If I went over there and asked him out, and he wouldn’t be interested—the thought mortifies me—he wouldn’t hold it against me. He’d be nice about it, as he is about everything, and I’d have to fake my death, change my name, and leave the country.

“Well?” Monty says.

I glare at him. Like hell I’ll let him win. And really, how hard can it be? So I empty my drink, slam the bottle down on the table, and march over there.

I lose momentum quickly as it dawns on me what I’m getting myself into, and a metre or so before I reach August and his friends, my march turns into more of a stilted shuffle. Thankfully he spots me, so I don’t have to force my way into the conversation, and flashes me an annoyingly adorable smile.

“Percy!”

I’m suddenly extremely aware of Monty’s eyes on the back of my head as I lift my hand and attempt what I hope is a somewhat smooth wave. 

“Helloooo!”

“I’m glad you came!” He looks around. “Where’s Sim?”

“Oh, she’s…” I clear my throat and raise my voice. “Gosh, it’s loud isn’t it?!”

He exchanges a look with the friend standing next to him, a short dark-haired guy with giant brown eyes. “Uhh… not particularly?”

“Is it not?” _Where am I going with this?_ “I think it’s quieter– I mean if it was loud, it would be quieter over... “ I point extremely vaguely to the other side of the room. “Over there?”

He looks where I’m gesturing, then looks back at me. He frowns in confusion.

“Did you want to… talk to me alone?”

“Yes!” _Calm down, Perce_ . _Be casual._ “I mean… yeah. We can if you like.”

He shrugs slightly, looking apologetically to his friends and then looking at me, waiting for me to move. I didn’t expect him to actually agree, so I’m momentarily flummoxed. 

I lead him away from his friends, aware that I need to be near enough for Monty to be able to listen in on us, even though the concept of that makes me want to disappear into a hole in the floor. 

I stand a few feet away from the drinks table and turn to August, giving him what I hope is a charming smile, though by the look on his face, it’s come out rather more constipated than endearing. 

“So!” He nods slowly at me, so I guess I need to say something else. “Music, eh?”

“Music. Yep. How long have you played violin?”

“Oh, we don’t need to talk about music! Surely there are more _interesting_ topics?”

He blinks at me. “You brought up music.”

“Oh. Oh! Right! Well, I just meant– I mean, there’s more to me than just– I just meant, because you and I both– I…” Am I talking loudly? People are glancing over, but that might just be because of the excessive arm gestures I’m doing. “I just… Sorry. Can we start over? I’m Percy.”

Oh God, he’s actually looking at me like I’m mad. “...Yes? We established that?”

“Right. Of course we did!” I laugh awkwardly. Over August’s shoulder I see Monty, still at the table, looking a combination of surprised and amused. Oh God, am I actually messing up that badly? I need to put us back on the right track, _right now_. I’m grasping for something to start up a decent conversation, anything at all. “Um. My whole life.”

He blinks. “What?”

“The violin.”

Several mortifying seconds pass before he catches on. “Oh, right.”

“Right. Riiiiiight.” I want to bash my own skull in. “Well, not my entire life,” I adjust quickly. “I didn’t start when I was a baby. That’d be dumb. Could you imagine? A baby playing a violin?”

He gives me a short, nervous laugh, already glancing back to his friend group. _Shit_.

“So I was… I don’t know, probably three or something. So close enough. How–How long have you been playing the double bass?” I try to mimic interest, but I think I look more like a caricature of it.

“Um.” He frowns. “I play the cello.”

 _Shit._ Shit. “Of course!” I snap my fingers, laughing. “That was… That was a joke. I was kidding. I know what instrument you play.”

He doesn’t laugh at all, just looks very, very confused.

Okay, time to change tactics entirely. Talking about music isn’t working. I came over here to flirt, didn’t I? So I could ask him out. Okay. How do people flirt? Compliment him? On what? I spin a mental wheel–

“Actually,” August starts, “I should, uh–”

“Your eyes,” I blurt out.

He stops and blinks at me.

“They’re, uh…” Fuck, how do I compliment? I can’t remember a single goddamn adjective. “They’re…”

“Is there something wrong with my eyes?” he asks.

“No! Of course not! It’s just that they’re, uh, they’re…” I make a motion like I’m actually grabbing a word out of thin air. “Blue!”

His brow furrows. “...Yes?”

“As blue as… as, uh…” I rack my brain for anything blue at all. _Be witty, Percy, be poetic, what else were those seventeen notebooks full of yearning poetry and teenage angst good for?_ “Blue as…” Any word at all. “...crabs.”

August looks completely bewildered. In sheer mortification I’ve gone speechless, so he prompts, “...Crabs?”

I nod much too enthusiastically.

“...I didn’t know crabs could be blue,” he says with a forced smile.

“Oh, they can be!” I’m rambling, I’m rambling, I’m _definitely_ rambling. “When I was a kid my family and I used to go on holiday to the coast all the time and there were these abandoned rowing boats? And they’d be absolutely crawling with them, one time I actually got my foot stuck in there and they were just everywhere–”

“Oh, okay!” August says, trying to be louder than my rambling and clearly intending to cut me off. “How, uh. Interesting. Who knew crabs could be blue?” Another one of those forced smiles. “I’m, uh, really sorry, but my friends are sort of waiting for me. Let’s… finish this conversation another time?”

I feel as if the floor under my feet has turned to quicksand. “Oh, o...okay.” And, long after he’s gone and much too quietly, “Bye.”

Several of August’s friends glance at me when he rejoins them, half-smiles and frowns on their faces. I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m staring after him, my face burning, completely alone at a party, and I’m confronted with the choice of either staying that way or returning to Monty’s side. Or perhaps faking a stroke so I can later blame the whole disaster of a conversation on being unwell, which truly sounds like my best option.

Eyes on the floor and more embarrassed than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, I head back to Monty. He doesn’t even look at me at first, just keeps watching August with his cup to his lips.

“So,” he says after a minute.

I let out a groan, and he starts laughing.

“Truly, darling, if I could say “ _it wasn’t that bad_ ”, I would.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I just don’t know what went wrong!” I blurt. “It was just a conversation! How could I fuck up a conversation _that badly_?!”

“Don’t ask me, darling.”

“I just– it was just because I got there and he looked me in the eye and I swear I forgot my own name. Alongside with the entire English language.”

“I saw.”

“I’m becoming a recluse and I’m going to live in the woods.”

Monty laughs again. “Hey, who’s the drama kid out of the two of us?”

I sigh, the adrenaline fading and leaving me bone weary. “What am I supposed to do, Monty?”

He watches me for a bit, bottom lip between his teeth. Then he presses his shoulder into mine. “I wasn’t kidding earlier, you know. I can help you out.”

“What are you going to do, teach me how to flirt?”

“Yes! Sign up for a nine lesson plan and get the tenth for free. Professor Monty at your service.” We both cringe at that. Monty smiles. “But it’s a genuine offer. I promise.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What are you getting out of it?”

“Isn’t the knowledge that I’ve helped a friend a reward of its own?” He holds the act for a moment longer, then cracks. “Fine. I need someone to practice my lines with. My sister is tired of me calling her in the middle of the night for it.”

I scoff. My eyes wander across the crowd, to where August’s dark-haired friend has just brought them all drinks. He takes his cup with a warm smile, and I swear I feel my knees give out under me. Really, what harm could it do? I’ve already immortally embarrassed myself. Least I can do is hear Monty out. Maybe it’ll actually help.

“You know what,” Monty says, “give me your phone.”

I unlock it and oblige, and watch as he inputs his number. He puts three hearts in the bisexual flag colours next to his name, then gives the device back.

“You think it over, and let me know. It’s an open offer.” He winks at me. “Have fun tonight.”

And with that, he leaves.

“Where did you run off to last night without saying anything?”

Sim has dropped down into the seat next to me in class. I look up from my phone.

“I could say the same to you. I think you hung out with me for about five minutes before you ditched me to go grope Jo.”

She scoffs. “We don’t _grope_ each other, Percy. We’re very much in love.”

I make a slight gagging motion, but she knows damn well I’m extremely jealous, so ignores me.

“Seriously, you could have texted.” She nudges me, raising her eyebrows. “Oooh, unless you _pulled_?”

I laugh bitterly. “Nope. Definitely not that.”

“Well, in that case you’re a dickhead, because that’s the only valid reason for leaving a party without telling your friends.”

“Sorry.” I sit back, sighing. “I just wasn’t feeling it.”

That’s a slight understatement.

After Monty left, I attempted to style it out and stay for a while, waiting to see if Sim would come back and at least partially save me from social humiliation. She didn’t, so I downed another beer and made my way out, hoping that August and his friends didn’t notice me making my exit with my metaphorical tail tucked between my legs.

The entire conversation with him, if you could even call it that, is still playing on repeat in my head, and it still stings. The fact I never even got remotely close to actually _asking him out_ is the most painful element.

If I ever hear the word “crabs” again, I think I may die of shame.

“Did you at least talk to _anyone_?” I jump out of my thoughts and look back at Sim.

“No one worth mentioning.” I look back at my phone, where I have Monty’s contact open, and quickly lock it. “Can we just not talk about the party ever again?”

She rolls her eyes, clearly giving up. At least for the day. “This isn’t over.”

“What isn’t? Operation ‘Get Percy Deflowered 2021’?”

“Yep!”

I can’t help but wonder how much more pushy she’d be if she realised I’d never even kissed anyone.

I look up as the door to the lecture hall swings open and August walks in, the dark-haired friend from the party (and my new sworn enemy) tailing just behind him.

I feel my face flush immediately and Sim nudges me.

“But seriously,” she says. “I’m gutted you didn’t speak to August. I just think you two would make an adorable little couple. Playing duets together and staring dreamily into each other’s eyes.”

“Yes, that’s exactly how life works.”

“It could be! If you pulled your finger out.”

I scowl at her. I decide I’m better off not responding, or this conversation will be never ending. Instead I just watch August and the gorgeous dark-haired bastard take their seats a few rows in front.

They’re talking, and it looks so easy to them. Laughing and chatting back and forth with no effort at all. At one point, dark-haired boy leans over closer to August and gently wipes under his eye, presumably catching a stray eyelash.

My heart sinks.

I hear Sim let go a slight hiss next to me, and I glance at her. She’s giving me a grimace, as if to say “tough luck”.

“They’re just mates,” I mumble at her. Though I’m not sure which of us I’m trying to convince.

I swear I see August blush slightly, and it takes everything in me to not slide out of my seat onto the floor and await death.

I wonder if he even remembers last night. It will probably end up just being some funny anecdote his friends will bring up at the next party. _Remember that weird guy who wanted August to have a threesome with him and his violin?_

I take a deep breath and look back down at my phone. I unlock it and look at Monty’s name again, and those three little hearts. 

If Monty could just somehow gift me only five percent of his confidence, I could walk right over there and charm August’s brains out. Dark-haired bastard would be nothing but a distant memory. 

I open up a new message to Monty, my thumbs hesitating over the keyboard for a moment before I type. 

**Me: hey it’s percy, so i was thinking about your offer at the party. might take you up on that if i have the time between my studies x**

That’s casual, right?

Christ. No. Far too weird and polite. I delete it frantically then sit back, chewing on my nails. I pause for a moment before trying again. 

**Me: sooooo…. about that offer…**

God, that’s _too_ casual. Who am I kidding? I delete that too. 

The lecturer finally arrives and I lower my phone to hide it. I look back over at August and he’s giggling again, a gorgeous smile taking over his whole face. 

Fuck it. 

**Me: monty, it’s percy. i need help**

I press send. 


	2. Lesson 1: Flirting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for sexual references.

**MONTY**

“I just don’t see why you have to be so… obvious about it.”

Felicity motions to my coat and I glance down at it, before looking back at her. 

“What’s ‘ _obvious’_ about rainbow faux fur?” She rolls her eyes. “You’re just bitter that asexuals have such a bland colour palette.”

“Purple is pleasant enough.”

“I’m just thoroughly enjoying being able to wear what I want without being dragged back into the house by my hair, that’s all.” She flinches slightly. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She motions to the coat again. “It’s… it looks very warm.”

“It is!” I grin at her, holding up my cup of coffee. “To being warm and extremely queer.”

She smirks and holds up her soya latte, clinking the cup against mine. We both take a sip.

“I never thought I would say this, Monty but… I really have missed you.”

_Tough titties, darling. I’m never going back to that place._

“That’s lovely to hear, Felicity. But, and I mean this very kindly…. you’ll survive. I’m staying here.”

“Are you sure you can’t just… commute in for classes? It’s not _far_ …”

“It’s really that boring without me?”

She huffs, sitting back in her chair. I’ve missed her too, of course. We drove each other up the wall before I left for university, but since we’ve been apart we’ve been texting constantly. I suppose you don’t know how much you enjoy torturing your siblings until the opportunity is taken away from you.

“I just don’t understand the appeal. I mean… _student halls_. Is that as horrifying as it sounds? Do you even have cleaners?”

“Yes! We do! They change the bins once a week.” She gags slightly. “Look… I know you think I’m slumming it, and yes, in some ways I am. But waking up, knowing Father is in a different county? That’s a different kind of luxury.”

“I know he’s hard on you…” I raise my eyebrows at her, daring her to tag on a ‘ _but_ ’. Thankfully, she decides against it and sighs. “What’s it like?”

“So far? Fantastic. My roommate has a girlfriend with her own apartment just outside campus so he’s _never_ there. I think I’ve seen him one night since I arrived. No need for the old ‘sock on the door’ trick!”

“The ‘sock on the—’ I don’t even want to know what that means, do I?”

“It _means_ that I can bring home whomever I choose and make as much noise as I like.”

She scoffs. “As if living at home ever prevented you doing _that_ …”

“True enough. But now I won’t be punished. In fact, my neighbour once gave me a very supportive high five the next day.”

“I’m happy for you. Truly.”

“Thank you.”

She runs her nail along the edge of her cup, then smiles slightly. “No chances of you settling down anytime soon, then?”

“God, no. Monogamy is _not_ for me.”

“Thought so.”

“Relationships? Love? Feelings?” I stick out my tongue. “No thank you.” I raise an eyebrow at her. “Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason.”

I spot my chance and take it. I lean in, elbows on the table, and serve her my most annoying grin. “Have relationships been _on your mind_ , Felicity? Caught some feelings of your own?”

“What? No.” She scrunches up her face. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Hmmmm.”

“God, I forgot how much I hate you.” She empties her mug and puts her phone in her pocket. “I’m out of time anyway. Got things to do.”

“It was nice seeing you!”

“I wish I could say the same.”

I cackle as I lean back and check my own phone. Ah. My afternoon class started five minutes ago. I’m quickly distracted however by a text from an unknown number, that was apparently delivered about thirty minutes ago.

**Unknown number: monty, it’s percy. i need help**

“Oh, my,” I say under my breath, a smirk forming on my face. I double tap the notification and unlock my phone. First I add his number and put a series of rainbow hearts next to his name. I check the time again. I’ve really made him wait for a reply. He must be nervous as hell.

**Me: hi darling! happy to hear from you**

**Percy: can you help me or not?**

**Percy: also, aren’t you supposed to be in this class?**

**Me: yes yes i’m on my way there now**

I get up and take my things while I type.

“Well,” Felicity says, “until the next time I forget how annoying you are.”

“Yeah, bye, Feli.”

She stops just long enough to take offense at me ignoring her, then paces out.

**Me: but you did the right thing darling**

**Me: soon your social blunders and amorous incompetence will be a thing of the past**

**Percy: promises promises**

I laugh out loud at that. I check the time once more, then eye the queue at the counter. It’s tempting.

**Me: tell you what, we’ll talk after class**

I lock my phone, and go to stand in line.

  
  
  


I arrive in class fashionably late—fifteen minutes before it ends. I do knock, for which I give myself a mental pat on the head, then pause long enough at the door so everyone’s definitely noticed me.

I see the professor’s eyes go over me, from my pink sunglasses to my rainbow coat to my flip flops, then back up to linger on the takeaway coffee in my hand. I study him right back, pushing my sunglasses down to look over the rim with eyebrows raised.

But he just suppresses a sigh and goes back to his lesson.

Somewhat disappointed, I saunter to the seats, the sound of my flip flops thwacking against the floor filling the silence.

I’m delighted to find an empty seat next to Percy, who’s been watching me in something between bewilderment and amusement. I let myself fall down on the chair. His orchestra friend (Sam?) narrows her eyes at me.

“Either of you got a pen?” I ask.

The pair exchanges a glance, then Percy reaches into his bag and hands me one. I flash him a dimpled smile in gratitude. 

“So! Whenabouts would you like to—“

“Mr Montague,” the professor rudely interrupts. “I am actually still taking this lesson. Any chance you can save your chat for another fifteen minutes?”

Percy gives me a slight scowl for getting him in trouble (teacher’s pet) and turns his attention back to the front. 

I realise I don’t have any paper either, so shrug and start doodling on my arms. There’s no point paying attention. The lesson’s nearly over.

When everyone starts packing their things, I don’t even wait for the professor to finish his sentence. I grab Percy by the sleeve and guide him toward the hallway, while he shrugs apologetically in his friend’s direction.

Once we’re outside, he crosses his arms. “You’re definitely not wasting any time.”

“Most certainly not. Anyway, I was thinking we should hold the classes in my room. My roommate’s never there so he won’t–”

“Shh!” Percy’s eyes are wide as he watches the other students leave the room, shooting us funny glances. “Yes, that’s excellent for the, uh, studying we’re going to do,” he says loudly, and I almost burst out laughing.

“Relax, darling, this isn’t high school anymore. And it’s not like we’re planning to have a shag. Unless you want to.”

He goes fiery red and takes my wrist to drag me away from the crowd. “Look, I’m not– I don’t– I–”

“I’m just messing with you, darling.” I flash him a dimpled grin. “Anyway, when’d you have the time? Because I’m obviously very busy so I need to know when to clear my schedule.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Umm… I’ve got class Wednesday and Thursday nights, but beyond that my evenings are free.”

“Cool. Today is, uhh…”

“Thursday.”

I snap my fingers. “Yes! I was gonna say that. So you could come over tomorrow? And we’ll discuss the lesson plan?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

“And with my help you’ll master flirting in no time.” I softly hit him in the shoulder. “Give it a week and you’ll be marching up to September–”

I see the life die away in his eyes. “August,” he mutters. “It’s August.”

“–hit him with the one-liner of the century, and you’ll have him on his knees before you know it. In the proposal way or the blowjob way, you decide.”

The color’s immediately high on his cheeks again. “I– I don’t– I mean, I’m not–”

“Ah, sorry darling, I shouldn’t be making you uncomfortable by discussing your sex life in a public hallway.” His eyes go wide in alarm again as he watches the other students standing nearby. “You’ll hit him with the one-liner of the century, and he’ll let you pull him into the most knee-weakening kiss he’s ever had.”

Coming out of his embarrassment, suddenly Percy looks downright miserable. He hangs his head. “Like that’ll ever happen.”

“Hm?”

“The… kissing thing.” He sighs and rubs his eyes. “I should just call this off. Why do I even bother?”

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey.” I step in front of him, raising both hands and catching his eye. “What are you talking about? Your kissing skills can’t be _that_ bad.” I mean it as a jest, but he flinches slightly.

He shuts his eyes. “Yes, they can be, because they’re non-existent.”

“...What do you mean?”

He glances around and hushes his voice. “That sex life of mine you were threatening to discuss in public earlier?” I nod. “Doesn’t exist.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I…” He gestures helplessly, avoiding my eyes. “I’ve never even kissed anyone.”

I frown. I look him up and down ostentatiously while he rubs his elbow. “But you’re… you’re gorgeous. How come everyone you meet doesn’t want to climb you like a jungle gym?”

He’s blushing like mad, poor thing. “I’m– I am _not_ ‘ _gorgeous_ ’.” He actually uses air quotes. “I mean, I’m not handsome like you. I mean– not that you’re handsome– I mean, you _are_! I just meant–”

I watch him in amusement for a moment, then cut him off with a little hand wave. “Yes, yes, darling, I get it, I’m the prettiest thing you’ve ever laid eyes on. But I have good taste, and believe me, if I were a renaissance painter, I’d ask if I could draw you like one of my French girls and the picture would be in the world’s finest galleries. But anyway.”

He absolutely can _not_ keep up with my compliments. The blush is a good look for him, though.

“You’ve got the looks. You’re cute. You’re one of those actually super sweet types people simp for. All you need is a little education.”

He narrows his eyes at me, still very red. “And is this the part where you suggest you give me that education?”

I gasp and splay my hand on my chest. “Percy Newton!” I exclaim in a pitched voice. “How dare you make such a scandalous suggestion. I am a proper young lady.”

He glares at me.

“But it is a fine suggestion regardless. I’ll take you up on it.”

“Anyone ever told you you’re quite insufferable?”

“Only five times so far today.”

He’s still looking a little petulant and very, very tired. I hesitate.

“Hey,” I say quieter. “I know I can… come off strong.” He snorts at that, as if to say, _oh, really?_ “But I really don’t want to pressure you into anything. If you only want my help with flirting, I can do that. If you want my help with… _more_ …” I gesture. “I can do that too. And if you want me to fuck off and never talk to you again, well…”

One corner of his mouth tugs up. “You’d do that?”

“It’d be the hardest thing on the list, considering that I know now that you’re handsome _and_ a total doll.” I turn serious again. “But yes, I would.”

He stares at me for a while, chewing on his lip. “Could I, uhh… maybe get an idea of what exactly we’d be doing? And decide then?”

“Absolutely! I’ll prepare a little something. You still up for tomorrow night?”

“Yeah. Um…” He shrugs, giving me a smile. “Thanks? I guess?”

“Don’t thank me yet. Thank me when you’re absolutely rolling in—“

“Yes, I get the idea.”

He looks around sheepishly, and I decide it’s time to put him out of his misery and leave him alone. 

“I’ll text you my dorm number.” I nudge him. “See you then! This could be the beginning of a new era, Percy Newton.”

With that, I saunter away (as much as one can saunter in a pair of flip flops), leaving him staring after me in awe. Presumably. 

  
  


My Friday nights are not usually spent in my dorm room. In fact, I’ve received several invitations from people on my floor to head out, and several very baffled responses when I turned them down.

I have different priorities this evening.

We agreed on half eight, and it’s now eight thirty-five. I’m cool with this. Very chill. Not exactly the most punctual person myself.

Still, perhaps I should give him a quick text. Make sure we’re still on.

I whip out my phone but before I can unlock it, there’s a jaunty knock at the door. I jump up off the bed to go open it.

“Percy Newton!”

He gives me a sheepish smile. Like he can’t believe he actually showed up. (I’m fairly surprised myself.)

“Are you ready for the first day of the rest of your life, darling?”

“We’re still… discussing, remember?”

I step aside and he walks in. “Ah yes. Still in the negotiation period.”

“You’re making this sound even more unsavoury than it actually is.” He looks around, taking in my room, as if he was expecting some sort of red lit boudoir instead of the same room literally all of us have. “Are we definitely going to be alone?”

“Oh yes. He’s never here. In fact, you take his bed.”

I motion to the bed opposite mine and Percy hesitantly sits down on it.

“Can you please stop looking like you’re walking into a firing line? We’re just _talking_.”

“Sorry. It’s just your…” he motions vaguely at me. “... energy.”

I stare blankly, sitting down opposite him. “My energy. Right.” I take a deep breath. “Well, evidently you’re having some sort of existential crisis about this already, so shall we just get it over with?”

His eyes widen. “Get… get what over with?”

I roll my eyes and lean over, grabbing my laptop from my pillow. Percy watches me, still looking unsettled, as I open it up and place it on my bedside table so that we can both see the screen. It’s open on the first slide of a PowerPoint presentation.

 **_THE COLLEGE STUDENT’S GUIDE TO SEX AND STAGE PLAYS_ ** _, created by Henry “Monty” Montague._

I look at him expectantly. He’s staring at the laptop like it will explode any second and take us both out. I’m a little affronted, as I’m rather proud of that opener.

“... Stage Plays?”

“You’re helping me run lines, remember?”

“Oh. Yes. Is that…” He drags his gaze back over to me. “Is that Comic Sans?”

“What else would I use?” I grin, clapping my hands together. “So! Here’s what I’m thinking. If, and only _if_ , you decide to take the entire course—”

“ _Course_?”

“Yes!” I motion to the screen. “Course! This is the outline.”

“You made this in one day?”

“I like a project! Anyway, as I was _saying_.” I huff slightly. “If you decide to go ahead with the entire course, I thought perhaps we could take it in weekly stages. Start with flirting techniques, and eventually make our way up to the full game of backgammon.”

With that, he goes almost completely red.

“The full game of… what?”

“You know… sex! Doing the deed. Making the beast with two backs. Bumping uglies. Reading the communist manifesto. _Sex,_ darling.”

“ _Reading the_ — are you making these up on the spot?”

“Perhaps. So! Thoughts so far, Perce?”

He swallows. “Thoughts. Yes. Perhaps we can come back to that once I’ve seen the rest of the... outline?”

I nod. “Of course!”

I skip to the second slide. **_Lesson One: Flirting._ **

“The first, and probably most important lesson. It’s fairly unlikely you’ll ever have the opportunity to do anything on the rest of the course if you don’t pass this section.”

“Are there… will there be tests?”

“We’ll get to that. Next up… “ **_Lesson Two: Kissing._ ** I skip onto the next slide straight away. **_Lesson Three: Making Out._ **“And it’s important to know the difference between these two, darling.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times like a fish on land, then settles on burying his face in his hands. He peeks between his fingers as I go to the next slide: **_Lesson Four: Hand Stuff._ **

“Oh God,” he says.

“I think this lesson is pretty self-explanatory. Okay–” I move my hand toward the keyboard again, and Percy pulls up the bedsheet to hide his face behind. I huff a laugh. “Are you watching a horror movie or something?”

He lowers the sheet until right below his eyes. He’s looking incredibly nervous and almost sad. “Sorry,” he says. “I’m just… It’s just…”

“Don’t apologize, darling.” I wink at him. “I can imagine it’s a lot to take in.”

 _...That’s what he said_. 

“Also,” I add, as I see him relax a bit, “you’re very cute when you’re flustered.”

He hums. “Will you ever stop hitting on me?”

“I’ll stop if you want me to.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “It’s fine,” he then says, trying to sound flippant. “It’s, uh. Flattering, I guess.”

“I do intend it as a compliment. But I thought I’d make sure. Anyway.” This time I do actually hit the key. “After that there’s _Lesson Five: Mouth Stuff_.”

He covers his face again with the sheet, groaning. I laugh.

“Once again, I think that needs no illustration.” I move onto the next slide, and as he’s still got the sheets pulled over his face, I continue narrating, “ _Lesson Six: Foreplay_.”

Percy lets himself fall back onto the bed, sheet still over him.

“Now, darling. You may have gotten the impression from film and television that one can just leap straight into a shag, but I assure you this is _not_ the case, and preparation is _essential_.

“Which leads us on, finally, to _Lesson Seven_ .” With much drama, I hit the _next_ key one more time. “ _Sex_. The aforementioned full game of backgammon.”

Percy doesn’t respond. I get up and sit down on the bed next to him. I tug the sheets down until I can see his face again. He’s looking at me in dread, blushing like mad.

I put on a serious voice and speak ahead. “The victim died somewhere between eight and nine p.m. Preliminary cause of death: mortification.”

He huffs, and runs a hand through his hair.

“But really darling, are you alright?”

“I’m… fine.” He hesitates for a moment, then sits up. “Is it over?”

“It’s over.” He lets out a long exhale. “And as for whether there will be tests… not _technically_. But there will be homework assignments.” He blinks at me. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I’m thinking that you may be the strangest person I’ve ever met, and that this is one of the weirdest evenings of my life.” 

I smile brightly. “Thank you!”

“It’s just… a lot to consider. A couple of days ago I was asking for chat-up tips and now there’s… “ He motions blindly towards the laptop, which still displays the word **_SEX_ ** in fairly large letters. “There’s… hand stuff.”

“You know this is just a suggestion, yes? We can just do the chat-up tips. Or if you prefer, I can just demonstrate everything with a cucumber?” I pause, grimacing slightly. “Although that may be a bit of a challenge with Lesson Seven.”

He does a loud, sudden laugh, as if he couldn’t keep it in, then clasps a hand over his mouth.

“No need to pretend I’m not hilarious. We’re all friends here.”

He rolls his eyes slightly, but when he moves his hand away, he’s smiling.

“Did you… were you wanting to start this now?”

“No, no! Go away and think about it. Look.” I get up and go back to my bedside table, grabbing a pile of paper, handing it to him. “I printed it out for you.”

He looks down at it, then back up at me. “There’s space for notes.”

“Notes are important.”

“Monty... “ He looks around. “There’s no printer here. Did you print this—”

“In the library? Yes. And oh my god! You wouldn’t believe the scene I caused.” I drop back down on the bed next to him. “The printer jammed right towards the end! I had three different librarians trying to dig the paper out. Such fuss and nonsense.”

He stares at me, open mouthed.

“What?”

“I think I’m going to go now.”

“Okay!” He pauses, then stands up. I do the same. “Honestly, Perce. It’s up to you, but I think it’s a splendid idea. Some no-strings-attached lessons, and at the end of it all, you can blow October’s mind.” He narrows his eyes. “And we might even have a laugh or two along the way!”

“I’m sure.” He awkwardly holds up the print-outs. “Thank you. For this. I’ll… be in touch.”

“Fantastic.” I hold out my hand. “Great working with you.”

He looks at my hand for a couple of seconds, then slowly reaches out to shake it. I give him my widest grin and he smirks slightly, before heading to the door.

Once he’s gone, I drop back down on my bed with a happy sigh.

University is shaping up to be fantastic.

I hear back from him exactly nine hours later. It is six in the morning, and I’m just returning to my dorm—because as things ended rather early, I decided to go out after all. I had an excellent night. I stop when I’m six feet away and it takes me a while to recognize the person knocking on my door, clearly doing his best to be quiet.

“Monty?” he whisper-shouts at the door, “are you there?”

“Yes,” I respond, and he jumps. He presses himself against the wall and gasps for breath, then finally looks me over. My hawaiian shirt is hanging open but I’m miraculously still wearing trousers, so I don’t think he’s got much to gape about. I tap my solitary remaining flip flop against the floor as I wait.

“You’re, uh,” he starts, then points at my face. “Is that your lipstick?”

“Hm? What color is it?”

“A dark red.”

“Oh, heavens, no, that’s not my color. Must be someone else’s.”

He stares at me.

“Did you need anything?”

“Uh, yeah. I…” He looks me over again, seems to earnestly reconsider every decision he’s ever made, then continues, “I came to say that… I want to do it. The course.”

I squint, trying to get my thoughts in order. “The… course?”

“Yes?” He raises one eyebrow, then says, on a hushed tone, “The College Student’s Guide to… you know.”

“Oh. Oh! Of course! Right! That’s excellent. Great to hear it.”

“Good. Um. So do we start… now?”

“What? No. Have you seen the state of me?”

He huffs, then deadpans, “Isn’t this kind of the state of you always?”

“Maybe, but I’m drunk now. We won’t be doing anything when I’m drunk.”

Something shifts in his expression at that. “Oh. Okay. Um, when should I come back?”

I dig through every pocket I have on me to find my phone, squint at the time, then say, “Three o’clock, this afternoon. Bring me an aspirin for extra credit.”

“Will a bucket of cold water do?”

“Oooh, Mr Newton, rebelling against your teacher already?” He can’t quite hide the amusement in his expression. “We haven’t even started and I’m learning all about your hidden depths.” I walk past him and unlock my door. “You don’t want to come in, do you?”

“No. I suppose I should, uh. Try to catch some more sleep myself.”

I frown, suddenly realizing how tired he looks up close. “Wait, have you slept _at all_?”

He looks away quickly.

I laugh. “Go get some sleep, darling. I won’t have you dozing off in class. The only sleeping you’ll be doing there is with me.” I quickly put up a hand. “If you want to. Know that you can back out at any time.”

He snorts. “Do I get a refund?”

“Very funny. Now, get lost. I’m about to pass out.”

  
  
  


I’m feeling far more human by the time Percy arrives again. A long shower and a long sleep have certainly done the trick, although they can’t hide the fresh bruise on my neck that Percy’s eyes keep wandering to as I’m speaking.

“... I mean of course, you could always just get some flirting and sex tips from Cosmo magazine, but I have encountered a few journalism students in my time and trust me… you don’t want advice from any of those people.” He looks at the bruise again and I huff, pulling my collar down so he can get a better look. “There you go, darling. Get a shot of it on your phone if you prefer.”

He blanches. “Sorry! Sorry. Just… does that _hurt_?”

I smile slightly, putting the collar back up. “Not really. Only in the fun way.”

He looks baffled at this, so I decide now is not the time to get into it.

“Well then, shall we crack on with lesson one?”

We’re both sitting cross-legged on my bed, facing each other. Percy looks nervous, but determined. It’s rather charming. He takes a deep breath and nods.

“Okay. So, forget all the silly advice you’ve picked up from television. Too much eye contact is creepy. So none of this…”

I look down at the bed, then look up at him under my eyelashes. He looks back, then frowns when I continue to stare, unblinking, for a good five seconds.

“Unsettling, isn’t it?” He nods seriously and I finally blink, straightening up.

“Secondly, cheesy pick-up lines only work if they’re made with humour, and they’re risky, so try to avoid them. Oh, and absolutely no _negging._ That is not a thing.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but… what on earth is negging?”

I sigh. “Something those horrendous YouTube pick-up artists invented so they could be openly misogynist. Essentially insults in the form of flirting.” I point at him sternly. “You are better than this, Percy Newton.”

“ _Pick-up artists_?” He runs his hands through his hair. He does that a lot, I’ve noticed. “God, I’m out of my depth.”

“Well, that’s why I’m here, silly! Anyway, those are some of the _do-nots_ . Let’s start on the _dos_.”

I pick up my laptop from the floor, he flinches slightly at the sight of it. I put it between us and open it up to my PowerPoint again, skipping to slide two where there are some bullet points listed.

“The first is pretty simple. Compliments. Everyone, whether they will admit it or not, loves to be complimented. Now quickly, what’s something you like about Novemb —”

“Freckles. I like _August_ ’s freckles.”

“Ah yes. Of course. The freckles.” I put on a gentle voice, my closest approximation of how Percy would sound trying to flirt. “‘ _So…are you freckled all over, or….?_ ’”

He immediately shoves me, then grimaces, looking self-conscious.

“Sorry. But I’m not saying that!”

“I was _joking_ . Sometimes I _make jokes._ ” He forces out a fake laugh. “Fine. Perhaps go with something that isn’t physical. Does he have a nice personality?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. He does. He’s… very nice.”

“Thrilling. Okay, forget compliments for now, we’re getting nowhere with this. Let’s try looking.”

“Looking?”

“Yes. Looking. Rather than staring. Once you catch his eye, look away. Then look back. If you still have his attention, it’s a definite good sign. Do this a maximum of three times, or you’ll start to look unhinged. Now…”

I shuffle slightly closer to him.

“You need to get into his personal space. Not in a pushy way. Just a little further. If he doesn’t step back, or even better, if he moves forward too, that’s another definite good sign.”

I lean a little closer to him and he doesn’t react, so I slowly move my gaze to his mouth. I hear him swallow slightly, then smirk, moving away again.

“See, that’s an effective one.”

He frowns at me. “What is?”

“What I just did! Look at his mouth. Make him think about kissing you.”

“I wasn’t thinking about—”

“No, of course not.” I grin. “So how am I doing so far?”

He takes a breath. “This is my first ever flirting lesson, Monty. I don’t really have any basis for comparison. But… yes. Good. I’m learning.”

“Great! Do you want to have a go?”

His face falls. I don’t think he’d considered this was going to happen so soon.

“Well come on, darling. You have to put the lessons into practice. That’s how they sink in. Look.” I shuffle off the bed, going over to my roommate’s bed and sitting down as far from him as I can. “Get my attention.”

He hesitates, and immediately goes to get up. I hold up my hand.

“Ah ah! Get my attention from a distance, remember? Catch my eye.”

“Christ. Okay.”

He clears his throat, so I look over at him. Immediately his eyes widen like a deer in headlights, and he seems to lose the ability to blink. Suddenly he remembers my advice and looks away. I hear him audibly count a couple of seconds, then he shoots his head around, staring at me again.

This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

“Okay, that was… interesting. Just come sit next to me, we’ll try the next part.”

He gets up and awkwardly sits on the bed next to me, leaving a couple of feet between us.

“Right. Perfect. Now slowly move closer to me and see how I respond.”

He shuffles up. I give him my best, ‘sort of interested’ glance, and then he immediately stares at my mouth. He even makes a slight kissy face. I sigh.

“Okay, you’re putting all of the steps together but you need _subtlety_ , darling. Try another technique I like to use. Just small, casual touches. Show me a small, casual touch.”

He pauses, then reaches out, prodding my arm. “Hi.”

_For fuck’s sake, what have I gotten myself into?_

“Lovely. Perfect. Tell you what, Perce. We’ll come back to lesson one. I think my plan needs more work.”

He grimaces. “Christ, was it that terrible?”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, darling. You’ll get there.”

He sighs, lying back on the bed. “It’s hopeless. I’m wasting your time.”

“No! Absolutely not. Flirting is a difficult thing to master. There’s no shame in falling down on the first couple of attempts.”

He looks up at me. “Sure. No one taught _you_. It came naturally, right?”

“It can still be taught. I promise you. Now listen.” I grab his arm, pulling him back up. “This wasn’t a waste of time, but if you like, we could make a start on lesson two while you’re here?”

“Lesson two.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Kissing?”

“Kissing.”

He nods. “Okay. Sounds good. More… straightforward, right?”

“I suppose so. Although a great kiss is never straightforward.”

I turn to face him and he does the same, tucking his legs underneath him. He’s blushing again, either from the thought of kissing me, or from the fresh embarrassment arising from his attempts at flirting, I can’t really tell. I’m starting to think he’ll blush at most things.

“First kissing tip. Do _not_ go straight in with the tongue. I’ve experienced many people who think this is the height of sexiness and sophistication, when really it just comes off desperate. In fact, the first time you kiss someone, don’t use tongue at all. Keep it chaste. Leave them thinking about the next time they’re going to kiss you, and how much more intense it’s going to get.”

“No tonguing. Got it.”

“We’ll get onto tonguing in later lessons.” He blushes even harder. “For now, I’m just going to gently press my lips against yours. If you like, you can take my bottom lip between your lips, and I can take your top lip. So we fit together.”

“That’s… quite specific.”

“I’m trying to be a good educator.”

“I appreciate that.”

“Then you can move your mouth. Part it slightly perhaps. But keep the movement small and gentle. Leave him wanting more, remember?”

“This all sounds rather…”

“Subtle? Yes. Learn that word. Practice subtlety. That’s your homework for this week.” I clear my throat, licking my lips. “Shall we have a go?”

He slowly nods, as if convincing himself. “Yes. Yes let’s… have a go.”

“Good.”

He wets his lips too and I lean forward. He closes his eyes and leans forward too. Then I start, pulling back.

“Wait! This is your first kiss.” He blinks at me. “Like your actual first kiss.”

“That’s… yes. I think we established this a long while ago.”

“But that’s a big deal. I want this to be a good kiss. I want it to be…”

He rolls his eyes and puts his hand under my chin, pulling me forward and closing his lips over mine. Thankfully, he’s taken in my advice about this far better than the tips on flirting. He’s gentle, and he takes to it quickly, sucking on my top lip slightly but not desperately. My lips part slightly, and he mirrors me, then moves away before it gets any deeper. We look at each other for a second and then he leans in again for a quick peck, before sitting back.

I smile. “Ah. So you _can_ listen.”

“Shut up.”

“So how was your first kiss? Out of ten?”

“Is this your version of Rate My Professor?”

“Absolutely.”

He grins, still blushing. “Eh, I dunno. Definitely a six.”

I shove him. “You arsehole. For a first kiss that was a solid eleven.”

He starts laughing at how insulted I look. “Hey! I can’t exactly compare it to anything.” Then he softens. “But it was lovely. So, um. Thank you?”

“You’re very welcome.”

He’s looking at me, rather fondly, and I suddenly find it difficult to keep up eye contact. “Anyway!” I jump to my feet, grab a stack of paper off my desk and shove it into his hands. 

He frowns at it while I let myself fall down on my own bed. “What’s this?”

“It’s the _Stage Plays_ part from the Guide to Sex and Stage Plays, darling. You promised you’d help me out in return.”

He huffs and starts flipping through the pages. “That’s fair, I guess.”

“Act one, scene eight. Right before the second act starts.”

“Okay. And you’re…?”

“Oliver. You have to read Francesca’s lines in this scene. I’m the main character, she’s my wife.”

He spends some time reading the page. His eyes get stuck somewhere halfway, ghost of a smile on his lips.

“ _What are you playing at_?” I start, voice raised.

He looks up. “Hm? What?”

“That was my first line. Francesca pretends she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, and eventually we lapse into a proper fight and she says she’s divorcing me.”

“Oh. Oh! Right. Sorry.”

I lean down on my side, propped up on one elbow. “Still distracted by that kiss, huh?”

“What? No.”

I feign insult.

“No, I was just thinking… It’s nothing.”

“I’m already out of it. Now I wanna hear it.”

He shrugs, eyes downcast. “I was just wondering what your first kiss was like.” He looks at me. “A solid eleven as well?”

“Oh, God, no.” I let myself fall onto my back. “Well, it wasn’t _bad_. It was quite a fine kiss, as far as first ones go.”

He nudges my leg with his foot. “Go on.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I feel like there’s a ‘but’.”

“Well. Like I said, it was a good first kiss. But…” I make a careless gesture. “...he got cold feet and told everyone I forced myself upon him. Which was a _lie_ because I would never force myself on _anyone_.”

I don’t see his expression, and I’m sort of glad for it. “Shit. That’s… That’s really shitty. I’m sorry.”

“Yep. Got dragged out of the closet _and_ labeled a pervert in one go.”

“That’s horrible. I’m sorry I asked.”

“It’s fine.”

I hear him moving closer toward the edge of my roommate’s bed, and the next moment, he’s in my vision, sitting with his elbows on his knees. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen.”

“ _Thir–_ I’m not even sure I knew I was gay at thirteen.”

“I didn’t know either.” Shit, I think he’s actually feeling sorry for me. I sit up quickly, grab the script and push it in his hands again. “See? You could be much less fortunate for a first kiss, but thankfully I’m endlessly generous. Now. The scene. _What are you playing at?_ ”

He watches me for another moment, half-smile on his face. “Okay. _What am I playing at? I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about._ ”

“ _Don’t play dumb. I know you’re doing this to spite me._ ”

“ _Spite you? I hardly know you. We’re two strangers, you and I. I don’t know what your favorite color is, and I don’t want to._ ”

“ _Why? Are you afraid of what you’ll find if you bother to get to know me?_ ”

“ _Why would I be?_ ”

“ _Because you’re scared you might fall in love?_ ”


	3. Lesson 3: Making Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: a character has a seizure.

**PERCY**

“So! How do you feel that last week’s lesson went?”

I’m back in Monty’s room and he’s, once again, taking this very seriously. He’s sitting on his bed, his legs crossed and a notebook sat in his lap, tapping against the page with a pink pen that has a fluffy pom pom on the end of it.

“Well… I came back. That’s a positive review in itself, isn’t it?”

He huffs slightly. “Come on, Perce! I’m trying to perfect my teaching techniques. Humour me. What did you think of lessons one and two?”

“Lesson one was... “ I take a deep breath. “A struggle.” He frowns slightly. “But not due to your teaching techniques! Due to my intense awkwardness and inability to act like a normal human being.”

He scribbles some notes, mumbling to himself, “Normal human being… got it.”

“Lesson two was good. I mean—not just because the kiss was good. I mean not that the kiss wasn’t good. It was very good—” _Calm. Down_ . “Well, maybe not _very_ good but definitely—” I finally manage to take a breath. He’s staring at me, looking amused. “Good. Lesson two was good.”

He grins, noting something down again. “There were a lot of ‘good’s in there, so I will give that lesson a solid… _good_ out of ten.” He finishes writing with a flourish, then looks back up at me. “So, I’m sure you’re aware what this week’s lesson is focusing on.”

“I’ve studied the outline in great detail, Monty.” I stretch out, leaning back on his roommate’s bed. “ _Making Out_ I believe you named it. Which I must say is rather Americanised.”

“I could change it to _Snogging_ if you’d prefer?”

“That makes it sound like we’re fourteen years old.”

“Then _Making Out_ it is.” He tilts his head. “So, what would you say is the difference between kissing and making out?”

I pause. Is this a trick question? “... Tongue?”

Judging by the loud laugh he lets out, I’m guessing I’m pretty far off.

“If you want to massively oversimplify it, I suppose.”

“I’m fine with oversimplifying at this point, Monty. I think it’s all I can cope with.”

“Nonsense.” He pats the space on the bed next to him. “First making out tip, we can’t do it on separate beds.”

I roll my eyes slightly, but pull myself up, going over to his bed and slowly sitting down, keeping a reasonable distance between us. He tosses the notebook and pen to the side and turns to face me, but doesn’t move any closer.

“Last week we covered the best way to orchestrate a first kiss. Chaste, sweet and gentle.” He points at me, raising his eyebrows. “You did very well.”

I feel my cheeks warming slightly. “Thanks?”

“This week may be a little more… intense. And as ever, I just want to make it clear that we can stop at any time.”

“Monty… I appreciate the concern but—”

“I’m not concerned, darling! Just checking in. _Consent is sexy_. Never forget that.” I can’t help but smile at that, and he grins back. “So! Tongue.”

I rub a hand down my face. “Christ.”

“Now, now. No need to bring Jesus into this.” He reaches over and takes my hand, pulling it away from my face and dropping it into my lap. “Okay, we’re focusing too much on tongues. This is just… kissing plus. Premium kissing. Doesn’t even need to be on the lips.”

I start slightly at that. He gives me a look, then points to his neck.

“Neck, Percy. Jaw. Nice, still fairly wholesome places to kiss that aren’t the lips.”

“Wholesome… jaw kissing. Okay.”

He hesitates slightly, then shrugs. “I could demonstrate? If you’re struggling to picture it.”

I wasn’t expecting this. But the idea of Monty’s mouth against my skin is definitely… somewhat agreeable. I give it a couple of seconds, then shuffle a bit closer to him and nod. 

“Okay.”

He nods too, then moves so we’re barely an inch apart, cupping my chin slightly and tilting my head up so that he has better access to my neck. Then he leans in and places a gentle kiss under my jaw. 

I feel a tingle. And not just where his lips have been. He presses a little harder when he goes in for a second kiss and I feel his tongue press against my skin. I swallow slightly, not sure how to respond, but before I can, he moves away to look at me. 

“Okay?”

“Hmm? Yes.” I nod.

I wonder if August has freckles on his neck. I don’t think I’ve ever looked. Monty has a beauty mark on his collar bone. Is it possible to have a beautiful collar bone? 

“Yes, that was okay.”

He smiles. “Good! We’re making great progress already this week.” He nudges his knee against mine. “Love that for us.”

“Shouldn’t we—“ I stop, and he gives me an expectant look. “Shouldn’t we go in with the kissing now?”

He grins. “Keen, are we?”

“Keen to _learn_ , yes…”

“Of course. What else would you be keen for?” He very unsubtly checks his breath, then looks at me. “Eaten any garlic recently or are we good to go?”

I frown. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“Excellent.”

He runs a hand through his hair and stretches his arms like he’s about to go for a run, then shakes them out. I’m suddenly, and not for the first time in recent weeks, wondering what the fuck I’m about to get myself into. 

“Okay. So this time, I’m going to open my mouth against yours, and my tongue is going to make an appearance.” Ah, there it is. My cheeks are getting hot again. “Don’t try to go full porn star, terrible fan fiction _‘their tongues battled for dominance’_ on me.” I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Just relax and do what feels natural. What feels good.”

I nod, as if any of that made sense, and he leans in closer again. 

Were his eyes always this blue?

I close my own eyes as his mouth meets mine and it’s as ‘ _good out of ten’_ as before. It’s nice. And strangely soothing. Then his mouth opens and I feel a tongue against my bottom lip, and suddenly it’s less soothing and more…

I’m not sure _what_ I’d call this. 

I try to do as he’d said and relax, attempting to just roll with it and opening my mouth in response. He hums slightly and suddenly my tongue is against his. I’m not sure if we’re _battling for dominance_ , but I do know it feels bloody amazing. 

My hands are still in my lap, and just as I start to raise one to bring to his hair, he breaks the kiss and pulls back to look at me. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?” 

I’m too flustered to respond at first, so I just nod. 

“Where?”

I take his hands and put them on my neck. “Here is fine. Can I touch your hair?”

He smiles and nods, and I put both of my hands in his hair, running my fingers through it as we start kissing again. 

He tastes nice. What does it remind me of? Something sweet but not sickly. Do I taste nice? He doesn’t seem to be complaining. 

He softly bites on my bottom lip and I sigh slightly. Suddenly I feel like this would work much better if we were horizontal, so I press myself against him, pushing him down gently so that we’re lying on the bed. He moves one hand to my back, sliding it up to my shoulder blades—

_Wait._

I quickly sit back up, wiping my mouth. Monty does the same, wide eyed. 

“Sorry! Shit! Got a bit– got a bit carried away.”

“No, no! That’s fine.” He straightens up his shirt, trying to fix his hair. “Improvisation is good.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I—”

“I mean, it’s—”

“Yeah, I didn’t really know—”

“No, I—”

We stop at the same time, looking at each other and blushing. Then I snort, and he breaks into a laugh, and then we’re both kind of chuckling like idiots. And that moment loosens something in me. The nerves and anxiety that so far have been my ever present companions in these lessons settle, and I feel myself finally relaxing properly.

This is okay. This is good. I’ve got nothing to worry about.

“Very well done, Mr Newton,” Monty says in a mockery of an authoritative tone. “Extra credit for initiative.”

“Why, thank you.”

“Now, you’re showing great promise, but you know what they say: practice makes perfect.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Well, yes. And I for one am a willing victim.” Then the sly look on his face trades places with a concerned one, and he puts up both hands. “ _If_ you still want to, of course.”

“I… yes. I still want to. As you say, practice is important.”

“Absolutely. You want to blow December’s mind, after all. And perhaps other things, but we’ll get to that in good time.”

I narrow my eyes. “Quite.”

“Okay.” He straightens up slightly, giving me his best serious ‘back to business’ face. “And we’re staying upright this time, yes?”

I’m blushing once again. “Yes.”

“I’m _joking_. Honestly. Don’t worry about getting ‘carried away’, I assure you I’m very hard to shock.”

I can only imagine. 

“So…” I say cautiously.

“So…” he replies with a smirk.

We both pause, waiting for the other to make a move. When nothing is happening after a good few seconds, I roll my eyes and lean forward, grabbing him by the back of the neck and kissing him again. 

When the kiss deepens, I think about August. Whether his lips are this soft. Would he even want to kiss me? Maybe he doesn’t even find me attractive. But I’m ‘gorgeous’ according to Monty. That makes me perfectly kissable. Right? 

Christ. Why am I even thinking about kissing him, when I still can’t form a sentence around him without stammering like an absolute fool?

My mind has wandered so dramatically, I almost forget that we’re still kissing (and I think I’m doing a pretty damn good job—if I may say so myself), when I feel him huff frustratedly against my mouth. I frown slightly and pull away. 

“You— all okay?”

“Yes, just…” He rubs the back of his neck. “Awkward angle.”

He looks me up and down, then tilts his head, motioning to my lap. 

“Can I…?”

I look down at my lap, then back at him with a frown. 

“Can you what?”

“Not _that._ Heavens, I thought my mind was supposed to be the one in the gutter.” He reaches out and gently taps my knee. “Can I sit in your lap? Facing you.”

I swallow. I’m really in no place to be hesitant, considering I tried to pin him to the bed five minutes ago. But… straddling me? That seems a little—

“Okay.” My mouth seems to blurt it out before my brain has even finished thinking it through. 

He smiles and gets up, standing in front of me then slowly climbing into my lap, his legs on either side of mine. He keeps a fairly safe distance between our… parts... sitting back on my thighs, and raises his eyebrows at me. 

“This okay?”

I pause, then nod, and he smiles, looking relieved before leaning down again to reach my mouth. I move away and he frowns. 

“Wait. Sorry. Can I…?” I suddenly feel embarrassed, so I point to his neck instead of using my words. “There?”

He looks surprised, then grins. “Absolutely, you may.”

I assess the situation for a second, then Monty lifts up his chin, waiting. I swallow, then lean in, placing a kiss against the pulse point of his neck. He shifts on top of me slightly and I take that as a good sign, so I move in again and this time, for some reason, I feel the urge to bite down slightly. So I do. 

He gasps. 

“Oofe.” He laughs slightly. “Steady on, darling.”

“Sorry.” I pull back, going red and casting my eyes down.

I feel a hand under my chin, lifting it, and I find Monty grinning, face inches from mine. “Well, don’t stop on my behalf.”

  
  
  
  
  


“Okay so, this scene in the play is pretty important, but so far what we’ve got is quite generic. And boring.”

Sim and I are in the common room. We’ve got a mix of study notes and sheet music displayed between us, and I’m fiddling with the bow of my violin. Across the room, Monty’s chatting to a blond girl who I believe is in his class. Over her shoulder, he notices me. He smiles and winks.

 _Arsehole._ I roll my eyes but can’t hide a smile of my own.

“I think this is all sounding a little bit melancholy. Do you think we need to perk it up a bit? ...Percy? Percy.”

“Hm?” I look up and find Sim staring at me. “Were you saying something?”

“Have been for the past ten minutes, thanks for noticing.” She crosses her arms and slinks further down on the sofa we’re sharing.

I sigh. “Sorry. I was…”

“Distracted. Yes. I noticed. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing really.”

“Hmm.”

I put down my bow on the armrest, then pull some sheet music closer. We’re supposed to finish this by next week, I really should start to focus.

“Hey, Sim?”

“Yes?”

I fiddle with a dog ear. “How was your first kiss?”

I can feel her looking at me. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“Ah, I see. Dreaming about kissing August, are we?”

I instantly go red and shove her. “I am _not_.”

“You’ve been absent-minded all day. The fantasies must be top notch.”

“Oh, shut up.”

She leans back, clearly satisfied in having made fun of me. “My first kiss was the worst.”

I turn my head. “Really?”

“Abso-bloody-lutely awful.”

I shift so I’m facing her properly, nodding and encouraging her to continue.

“I was fifteen. It was a boy from my class. And I thought I liked him? But I was just in denial and mostly, very gay.” She scrunches up her face. “It was gross, actually. His breath smelled so bad.”

“How was your first kiss with a girl, then?”

She grimaces. “Not that much better, gonna be honest. It was only a couple months later and neither of us really knew what we were doing.”

“Better breath though?”

She smiles. “She was pretty sweet, actually. We dated for a while, and the kissing got better.”

I hum. She watches me for a bit, trying to read my expression, then pokes me in the shoulder.

“Make sure your first kiss is good, Percy. You’ve been saving it up for so long, better make the most of it.”

“I have.” My heart skips a beat. “I mean, I will.”

Sim fortunately doesn’t seem to have noticed, as she’s distracted by Monty and the girl laughing loudly across the room.

“I can’t figure him out.”

“Who?” I ask, even though it’s fairly obvious who she means. 

“Monty. He was in our year at school, do you remember?

“Vaguely. What’s to figure out?

“Don’t know, really. Just seems kind of… up himself. And those _outfits._ ”

I look over again. Today Monty is wearing velvet floral trousers and a pink t-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘ _IS IT GAY IN HERE OR IS IT JUST ME_?’ (Somewhat ironically, considering he’s currently demonstrating that he doesn’t discriminate on gender). 

Personally, I think his style is kind of cute. 

She continues. “Thank fuck your taste in men is a little more… refined.”

He puts his hand on the girl’s thigh, a casual touch. But as I’ve already been taught, casual touches can sometimes mean a lot.

She’s still going. “He also seems to shag anything that walks.”

I give her a look. “Slut-shaming, Sim? Unlike you.”

She sighs. “I know. Theatre kids bring out the worst in me.”

I laugh. “You’re dating one.”

“And she’s made me into a giant sap. I stand by it.”

I smirk and look back at the sheet music, trying my best to concentrate again when I hear a very un-Sim-like-voice close by.

“Hello, band kids! How’s my score coming along?”

I look up and see Monty is now standing in front of us, the blond girl is standing a metre or so behind him, looking slightly impatient. 

Sim huffs. “Hardly _your_ score. And it’s going terribly! Thanks for asking.”

I smile slightly. “It’s getting there.”

“Good, good.” He smirks at me and my gaze falls to his neck, when I notice a rather sore looking bruise just below his jaw. _Fuck._

Sim motions to it. “Busy night?” 

I feel all the blood rush to my face. 

“Always,” he replies, looking smug. 

I’m definitely still blushing. Thankfully Sim is oblivious.

“See you in class, gorgeous people!”

He waves at us both and grabs the blond girl’s hand. She grins as he drags her out of the common room. We stare after the pair for a while.

“I don’t know,” Sim says eventually. “He just rubs me the wrong way. Strikes me as the type who’d lead you on and then ditch you the second he found a prettier face. Or go behind your back.”

“He’s—” I leap to his defence, but correct myself in time, “I don’t think he’s like that.”

“Percy, I know you’re fresh out of high school repression, so you’re a little biased. But trust me, you don’t have to like anything with a cute smile that comes your way.”

“I don’t like him. I mean, I don’t _not_ like him. I mean—” I stop myself with a wince. God, I really am that terrible at talking about these things, aren’t I? I sigh. “I just think he deserves a chance.”

“Are _you_ going to give him a chance?”

“What? No! I didn’t say that—”

She laughs and nudges me with her elbow. “I’m just teasing you. I know you’ve got your sights set on someone else.”

I huff.

“But there’s a valuable lesson in all of this. _If_ you one day move on from August—which, highly unlikely, I know, with how moony you are—and you’re looking for a new guy to swoon over, watch out for the Henry Montagues of the dating pool. All sweet talk and good looks, but in high school alone he’s broken more hearts than you can count—and I hear he’s resolved to break that record. So.”

I think back to our ‘lessons’. All the careless compliments and casual touches—he’s literally explained his seduction techniques to me. Sim isn’t exactly wrong. But it’s not a problem. Whom Monty is or is not involved with is his own business. We’re both just a means to an end for each other, and that works out fine.

Sim has picked her pencil back up and frowns between the sheet music and the play’s script. “Maybe if we modulate here…” Her eyes get stuck on some lines in the script. She chuckles. “Kind of funny he got cast as the homewrecker, right?”

“The couple gets back together at the end of the play, though.”

She hums vaguely. “Maybe.”

  
  
  
  


“ _Aren’t you listening to me? We are never_ _getting back together._ ”

“ _But if you could just give me a chance—_ ”

“ _No, it’s over. You’ve broken your promises too many times._ ”

“ _I know I’ve hurt you. But I…_ I… Fuck, what’s the rest of that line?”

I turn the page. “ _But I can change._ ”

Monty snaps his fingers. “Right! I knew that.” He clears his throat. “ _I know I’ve hurt you. But I can change._ ”

We’re sitting on my bed, me with the script in my hands and Monty across from me. A half empty bag of chips lies between us, and Monty pulls it toward him, taking a new handful to munch on. We’ve been running lines for the past hour. Monty’s overacting them, which I’m pretty sure is just for my entertainment.

Normally I find it endearing, but today I’m a little out of it.

“ _No. Just leave._ ”

“ _Francesca—_ ”

“ _I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve told you so many times. I didn’t—_ ”

“Wait, wait.” Monty cuts me off, raising both hands. “You’ve skipped a couple of lines.”

“Huh? Oh.” I blink, trying to focus on the page again. “Shit. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. So I say, _Francesca_ , and then you go…”

I ignore him, and start pulling my sweater over my head.

Monty raises a suggestive eyebrow. “You might be confusing the two parts of this arrangement, darling.”

“I’m not. It’s just… It’s very hot in here.”

“That’s just me, darling.”

I huff. “D’you mind if I open up a window?”

“Go ahead.”

I stand up and immediately wince. “Fuck, my head.”

Monty’s flopped down on his stomach, skimming over the script, as I head over to the window. “Have you been drinking?”

I look over my shoulder. “What?”

“ _Water_ , darling. Hydrate or die-drate.”

“I think so? I’ve been pretty busy today, though.” The window needs three tugs before it cooperates. The fresh air is a relief, though. I rest my forehead against the frame, taking deep breaths.

Behind me, Monty groans. “I hate that we’ve got to know all of this by heart already. It’s not like we’re getting to half of these scenes anytime soon.” A pause. “Sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I turn, trying to get back into it. “I know what you mean, though. They’re putting a lot of pressure behind the score too. They forget we’ve got other classes.”

Monty huffs a laugh. “Classes? What other classes? Everyone knows college students don’t do anything except drinking, shagging, and sleeping late.”

I smile. “I thought you quite enjoyed those things.”

“But I do! I’m just a great multitasker. Now.” He focuses his attention back on the paper. “Can we go over this scene from the beginning again?”

“Alright.” The pounding in my head has gotten more painful. I just need to sit down. I run a hand across my forehead—I’m sweating. The world goes in and out of focus for a moment. But I don’t—

My heart skips a beat.

_Shit._

“Uh, Monty?” My voice is trembling. Supporting myself on any furniture within range, I make my way toward my roommate’s bed.

He looks up, highlighter cap between his teeth. “Hm?”

“Don’t freak out.”

He immediately looks properly panicked. “Freak out about what?”

“I…” I reach the bed and sit down the best I can. “I think I’m going to faint.”

  
  
  


The first thing I become aware of, is how goddamn sore I am. I groan. I shift slightly and I’m immediately rewarded with a stabbing pain going through my head. _Jesus._

I’m on my side, face half buried in a pillow. I try to blink open my eyes but the sunlight assaults me.

“Percy?”

I hear movement, then a figure is blocking the light. He crouches down in front of me, peering at my face.

“Hey. Can you hear me?”

“Mmm.” I manage to crack open one eye and see Monty’s face, his eyes wide and worried. “Monty?”

“Yes, darling.” I hear the relief in his voice and see his hand reach out to push a few strands of hair out of my eyes. “You’re in your room, everything’s fine.”

“Fuck…” I try to move my head, then decide it’s not worth it, letting out a groan. “Did I have…?”

“An epileptic fit? Abso-bloody-lutely, you did. And right in the middle of a scene, too.” He kneels down on the floor so that he can get a better look at me. “You were quite the sight.”

I hum miserably.

He presses his lips together. “Was this your first seizure?”

“Not by a long shot.”

“Oh.” He hesitates, his mask of calmness slipping for a moment. “Do you want me to call someone? An ambulance?” He tries to add that last one jokingly, but he’s clearly still considering it.

“No, it’s…” I sigh. “I’ll be fine.” Forming words is difficult, and everything about me feels heavy. I lift a hand to rub my eyes, then stop. “You… put me in the recovery position.”

He fiddles with a loose thread on his sleeves. “Ah, yeah, uh.” He makes a vague gesture. “My sister’s planning to get into med school, and she had me quiz her on a bunch of things. Which is… Yeah. And I figured…”

“That’s…” I blink. “That’s, uh… Thank you.”

He smiles gratefully, some hints of fear still hidden in his eyes. He looks so different from he usually does—smaller, more open, more human, almost. Not so much larger than life. He’s still intently peering into my eyes, searching for hints I might still need help. I open my mouth to say something—

—then realize I have to throw up.

I scramble for the bin and Monty pushes it into my hands, then I spend a few moments retching over it. The back of my throat is burning but no vomit comes. Monty stays by my side, letting me support myself with a hand on his shoulder while he mutters quiet reassurances. Eventually I let myself fall back onto the bed, my head near the edge in case my stomach changes its mind and decides it’s time for spring cleaning after all.

Monty gets up and returns with a bottle of water. He puts a few pillows behind me so I can sit up. I take a small sip, and the second I swallow, the nausea spikes back up.

“Deep breaths,” Monty says.

It takes a few more minutes until I’ve properly calmed down and settled back into the pillows. I feel like absolute shit. Monty’s still at my side, watching me wide-eyed. I know he wants to ask but doesn’t dare to.

“So,” I eventually force, words mostly a sigh. “I have epilepsy.”

“Oh. Okay. I mean, I figured, but– Well, I mean, it’s okay. Or, it’s _not_ okay, I mean– that’s really shitty for you. Not that I… I just mean it must suck. But I don’t mean that I– I mean, I don’t _mind_ , not that that matters, anyway, but—”

I laugh wearily. “It’s fine, Monty.”

His shoulders slump. He still looks nervous. “How long?” he asks quietly.

“Since I was sixteen.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, not the greatest. But it’s… it’s fine. At least I’m medicated now.” I can’t help but keep some bitterness out of my tone.

Monty frowns. “What do you mean?”

I give him a challenging look, as well as I’m able to in the state I’m in. “I didn’t know our arrangement included listening to each other’s life stories?”

“Oh, hush. We’re friends now, whether you like it or not.”

I hum.

“So.” He nudges me. “Life story.”

“Not exactly my life story, but…” I pause. “Well. I had my first seizure at sixteen. Needed scans and tests and all that. But unfortunately, my aunt and uncle—my guardians—don’t believe in modern medicine.”

His eyes widen in shock. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. So I didn’t get proper treatment for the first two years of it. Only now I’m living in dorms I’ve been able to see a doctor behind their backs.”

“Jesus.”

“Yep. I knew something like this could happen, though. The doctor explained it always takes a while to find what works best for everybody. I guess I just…” I run a hand through my hair. “...I was a little too optimistic, I suppose.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“As you should be.” I look up, and find the humor back in his expression. “You could’ve told me, you know. What if it had happened mid coitus?”

I let my head fall back with a groan. “Please don’t make me think about those kinds of scenarios.” I bite my lip. “But you’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Water under the bridge, darling. I’m guessing it’s not an easy thing to pepper into a conversation with your friend with benefits.” He winks at me. “Especially in these sorts of things, communication is key. Next lesson we’ll be stepping it up a notch, so we need to be honest with each other.”

“Have _you_ got something you still need to come clean about?”

He spreads his arms, going wide-eyed. “Who, me? I’m an open book.”

I snort.

“But really darling, is there anything else I can do?”

“Nah. Just gotta…” I close my eyes. “Just gotta rest up a bit.”

“Alright.” He gets up and retrieves his phone from where it was lying on my bed. “Text me if you need anything.” Standing on my right side, he waits for a second, turning the phone in his hand and chewing on his lip as if in thought. Then he leans in and presses a quick kiss to my forehead.

“Take care!” he calls back as he heads out. “We still have a course ahead of us. I accept doctor’s notes.”

I roll my eyes. When he’s left, I find myself staring at the door, hint of a smile on my face. Soon exhaustion wears me down, though, and I drift off.  
  
  



	4. Lesson 4: Hand Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for sexual content (which is the entire third scene (in Monty's room), if you'd like to skip), Monty's usual self loathing, and Richard Peele.

**MONTY**

  
  


**_Me:_ ** _ perce! how is my favourite student? it’s been weeks!! _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i saw you in class yesterday… _

**_Me:_ ** _ well it feels like forever. how’s it going? have u managed to speak to january without causing an international incident yet? _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ …. no comment _

**_Me:_ ** _ well then we better get back to practice! _

_ “Last week, on Married at First Sight.” _

I glance up from my phone as a new episode starts. Jeanne and I are two hours into a reality TV trash marathon and this is our current favourite.

(I met Jeanne during freshers week and we hit it off immediately. A couple of months in and we spend as much time together watching TV and eating snacks as we do shagging. Which suits us both just fine.)

“You know," Jeanne says, while a particular couple is shown, “those are going to break up.”

“Hm? Why?” My attention is drawn back to my phone as a new message pops up.

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i sort of thought we’d given up on the flirting _

“Well. They're clearly in love with each other. But they can't manage to tell the other that because their self worth is shit. Especially that guy. How many issues can a person have?”

I’m already typing again when I look up and realise Jeanne is still expecting an answer. “If you say so.”

**_Me:_ ** _ i am no quitter, percy newton _

**_Me:_ ** _ when r u free for lesson 4?  _

**_Me:_ ** _ [hand waving emoji] _

She hugs a pillow to her chest, then pokes me in the shoulder. “What are you so distracted by, anyway?  _ Un nouvel amour _ ?”

“Oh, please.”

“Are they better than me?”

“Of course not, darling.”

“Then why are you paying them more attention?”

“Honestly, Jeanne. We just had sex, how much more attention could you possibly need?” 

She sits back with a huff, pouting in a way that I find annoyingly cute, then she shakes it off. “Still. Who is it?” She's leaned in before I can shield my phone, then abruptly pulls back. " _ Crabs Boy _ ? Henry Montague, if you have been sleeping with someone who has crabs, I swear to God I will—” 

“I haven't! I haven't.”

She watches me for a bit, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Hmm. Then why is his name  _ Crabs Boy _ ?”

“Because he's cursed. Every full moon he turns into a crab.” 

“Arse." 

“Which? Mine? I thought you were rather fond of it.” 

She shoves me again. "Fine then, keep your secrets.” 

“In that case: it's the cute violinist.”

I immediately have her full attention. She rolls onto her side and pillows her cheek on her fist,  _ Married at First Sight  _ forgotten entirely. “Ooh! From Modern Theatre? Yes, he is cute. How long have you been sleeping with him?” 

I start. “Uh. Well. It's a bit complicated.” 

“Complicated as in, he's not gay, or he's got someone else, or you're only sleeping together in your imagination and you're getting yourself off on that, or all of the above?”

“ _ None _ of the above, actually. You think so poorly of me.” I watch Percy's typing dots, bite my lip, then turning off my screen. “You know what, I'll tell you, if you keep it to yourself.” 

She imitates zipping her lips and tossing away the key. 

“So." I lean in with a conspiratory smirk. “He may or may not have asked him to initiate him into the world of romance and sex.”

She blinks. “ _ Initiate _ him.”

“Indeed.”

“So you are sleeping together.”

“Not yet. But it’s on the cards. We just have to get through a few more lessons first.”

She pulls a face. “ _ Lessons _ ?”

“ _ Indeed.” _

“Montague...” She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow, looking unimpressed. “Is this some sort of… role play? Teacher and student kink?” She suddenly gasps. “ _ Merde _ ! Is there a cane involved?”

I laugh. “Christ! No! So far it’s been quite tame, actually. We’ve done nothing but kiss.”

“You’re serious.” 

I shrug. “I’m doing a good deed for a poor, awkward soul. I witnessed him trying to pick someone up at a party once and it was absolutely excruciating. Turns out he’d never even kissed anyone. So I offered my expertise.”

“And if he took you up on it, he must really be desperate.”

“I’m not sure if you’re insulting him or me.”

“Both, I think.” She tilts her head, smirking. “You really think you’re so good in bed that you can teach sex lessons?”

“Well…” I pout slightly, feeling defensive. “I’ve certainly never had any complaints, darling.”

“That doesn’t mean you have a PhD in screwing.”

I can’t help but grin. 

“Say that again. It sounds wonderful in your accent.”

She rolls her eyes, but obliges. “Screwing.”

I hum, then lean in to give her a lingering kiss. 

I pull away, then sit back, unlocking my phone again. “You’d like him, actually.”

She blinks, a little dazed from the kiss. “Who?”

“Crabs Boy! He’s rather a sweetheart.”

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i’m not sure _

**_Me:_ ** _ oh darling, are u nervous?? _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ do i have reason not to be? _

**_Me:_ ** _ of course! because i’m gonna be there _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ well. if you weren’t lesson #4 would be something else entirely _

I snort, then start typing a reply.

“So how long until he catches feelings?” Jeanne asks, stretching her arms over her head and settling back into the pillow.

I look up. “What? That’s not going to happen.”

“Hmm.”

“Life isn’t some kind of fanfiction, Jeanne. Just because you’re sleeping with someone doesn’t mean you’ll fall in love. I mean, look at us. It’s not like either of us has a crush on the other.”

She pauses, rolling onto her side. “Mm. Yeah.”

**_Me:_ ** _ true. but i promise you darling i will do everything i can to make sure you’re comfortable _

**_Me:_ ** _ we won’t do anything you don’t wanna do _

**_Me:_ ** _ and we can stop at any point _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i suppose _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ give me a few more days and i’ll get back to you _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ but no promises _

**_Me:_ ** _ i’ll take what i can get _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ we’ve established this, yes _

I smile and put my phone aside. “But you’re right. I have been neglecting you.” I roll onto my side as well. She arches a defiant eyebrow at me, but lets me pull her in for a kiss. When I try to deepen it, she shoves me away and sits up.

“I think you’ve had your fun for today,” she says, and I whine in jest. “Now. Back to idiots who get married at first sight.”

I laugh and join her, pressing my shoulder against hers. “Hey, you never know if they set you up with a real catch.”

“You’d sign up for this kind of show, wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

  
  


Percy stays elusive for the next few days, while I gently tease him about his nerves and he tells me off. At one point (at two in the morning) I jokingly accuse him of real-life queerbaiting, in response to which he actually calls me to say I’m the worst. After that we still chat until the early hours. He’s very easy to get along with and quite funny once he gets past his initial reservations. I find myself smiling whenever I see he’s texted me.

But alas, he has not yet found the courage to start on our fourth lesson, and as the ever understanding teacher that I am, I tell him that there is no rush. It’s not like I’m practicing celibacy as I wait. Right now, for example, as I’m letting myself be pressed against a backstage wall by an actual real-life queerbait, though he prefers to be called Richard Peele.

First off, his breath is absolutely disgusting. If this were one of my lessons, I’d give him poor marks on that. I’d also give poor marks on how rough he always is. Does he think almost giving someone a concussion by pushing them against a wall is some kind of turn-on?

But very well. It’s a good enough distraction. Or maybe not that great, as he’s biting at my neck and his hand is between my legs and it isn’t working its usual appalling charm.

“Jesus Christ, calm  _ down _ ,” I snap, but his mouth is against mine again before I’ve properly finished the sentence. Fine. I guess not, then. I can deal with that.

I let him grope me for a bit longer, while he does something that somehow less resembles kissing and more like he’s trying to steal my teeth with his tongue. I distract myself by mentally making notes on further tips I can give Percy during our next lessons, though they could mostly be summarized as ‘ _ Don’t be Richard Peele _ ’.

After a while, I feel his hands on my shoulders pushing me down. I let him, sinking down to my knees, as he starts undoing his belt. I almost have the urge to check my phone for new messages while he does it.

“You know, Montague,” he says, “that mouth of yours has much better uses than reciting lines.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, yours isn’t good at either of those things.”

His hands still on his fly. “Just because you flirted your way into getting the leading part, doesn’t mean you deserve it.”

“ _ Flirted? _ With  _ Helena? _ ” I scoff. “I wish.”

“Why else did you think you got it? You’re a shitty actor.”

I narrow my eyes at him, which loses its effect as I’m still on my knees. “What is this, some kind of revenge-fuck?”

“Just get on with it, will you?”

“Uh, no.” I stand up and point my index at him. “I worked  _ hard _ for that role. You’re so goddamn mediocre you’re lucky to be my  _ understudy _ .”

“Bullshit.”

“The truth hurts, darling.”

“Look. I deserved that part, you’re too stupid to see it. Agree to disagree.”

I raise an eyebrow. “To disagree and for you to still get a blowjob out of this?”

“You know you want to.”

I don’t deny it immediately, which is telling enough, and he grins. It’s absolutely not the case that I’m so eager to do this. It’s part of our whole thing I suppose, how I hate Richard Peele with everything I have in me but I always gravitate back toward him. How he outed me at thirteen and calls me names within earshot but how he knows damn well that all he needs to do is make eyes across the room and it’ll end with the pair of us in some storage closet. How I regret it every time but always come back.

I don’t know. It’s easier not to think about it.

I sigh and I’m about to resign myself to it, when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. That seems like a good method to make him wait for another moment and save a little bit of dignity, so I take it out and read the message.

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i think i’m ready _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ no i’m _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i’m definitely ready _

My heart leaps.

**_Me:_ ** _ great! _

**_Me:_ ** _ my room? _

**_Crabs Boy:_ ** _ i’m on my way _

I’m unable to hold back a little cheer. Richard frowns at me. “What are you so happy about?”

“I gotta go.”

“What?” He seems genuinely alarmed at that. “But what about…” He gestures vaguely to himself.

I pretend to give him an earnest look up and down, then say cheerfully, “That’s your problem!”

And with that, I run off.

  
  
  


Percy was already waiting outside my room when I got back, and I said a quick prayer to myself that Richard’s horrendous aftershave hadn’t adhered itself to my clothes. I think I got away with it—he didn’t mention it, and when I suggested we warm up to today’s lesson with some kissing, he didn’t even hesitate. 

We’re sat opposite each other on my bed, his hands are in my hair and mine are resting gently on his waist. He’s kissing me deeply but still somewhat gently, and my hands clench the fabric of his shirt as he bites down softly on my bottom lip. The contrast between the delicate way he moves his lips against mine and the way Richard shoves his tongue inside like he wants to taste the back of my throat could not be more evident. I let go a surprised laugh against his mouth, then pull back slightly.

“You’re officially rather good at this.”

He smiles, blushing slightly. “At what?”

“This. Kissing.”

He lets go of my hair and sits back, looking surprised. “I’m a good kisser?”

I laugh. “Did you think you weren’t, darling?”

“I think I just kind of… assumed I’d be as terrible at everything as I am at the flirting.”

“Well, I must say it’s making all this much easier for me. And February is in for a real treat.” He looks slightly smug, so I raise an eyebrow. “Your flirting still needs  _ a lot _ of work, however. And without that, there will be no giving March treats of any kind. So don’t get too cocky.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been described as ‘cocky’. Clearly we’re spending far too much time together.”

I grin and pull him back in for another quick kiss, then lean back on my elbows to get a better look at him. 

“Are we sufficiently warmed up yet, do you think?

He blanches slightly, giving me a quick glance up and down. “I don’t know. How warmed up are we talking?”

I laugh. “Well, I’m personally not  _ that  _ warmed up. Just yet.” I reach out and gently nudge his knee. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

He pauses. Then nods. 

“Yes. I definitely want to do this.”

“Lovely.” I sit back up again, shuffling closer to him. “So how do you want to approach it?”

“Are there options?” I open my mouth and he cuts me off before I can say anything. “Don’t— please don’t say anything about a cucumber.”

I scoff. “I don’t have any cucumbers on me, sadly. But yes, there are options. I could demonstrate on myself? Talk you through it?”

His eyebrows shoot up at that. He clearly hasn’t considered this possibility.

“Oh! Right.” He thinks about this for a second, then shakes his head. “No. I don’t think that option would be terribly useful.”

“Elaborate.”

“Well… not to put too much of a finer point on it, but I’ve touched  _ myself  _ more than a couple of times. It’s the…” He finally starts to blush. It’s taken him much longer than I expected. “... the involvement of another person that I need practice with.”

“Understood. So.” I count on my fingers. “We’ve decided against a cucumber, and on you just watching me and taking copious notes. That leaves… me touching you, or you touching me and me giving you instructions.”

He nods slowly, taking it in. “Right. Yes.”

“Entirely your decision. And we don’t even have to, you know, see it through to completion.”

He frowns. “Well, that seems a bit counterproductive.”

He pauses again, and I see his fingers drumming nervously against his knee. He takes a deep breath. 

“Okay, yes. The first one. You… you touching me.”

“Good choice!” I smile, tilting my head. “You know, darling, hand jobs have an unfair reputation. Many think they’re just the territory of horny teenagers in the back row at a cinema, but I am somewhat of a hand job connoisseur.”

He laughs slightly and I grin. 

“This will be fun!” I clap my hands together and look around us. “Okay, let me think. Yes. Here.”

I lie back on the bed, shuffling over to make room for him, motioning for him to lie next to me. He clears his throat then obediently shuffles over, laying his head on the pillow and lying on his side facing me. It’s only a single bed, so we’re very close, but from the way his pupils dilate when I roll onto my own side to look at him, he doesn’t seem to mind. 

I smile and he smiles back, then I grab his collar and gently pull him forward for a kiss. He sighs slightly and melts into it, the tension in his body dissipating as the kiss deepens, my tongue briefly slipping into his mouth. 

I pull away just enough to speak. “I’m going to touch you now. Over your trousers.”

He nods immediately and I take the hand that isn’t on his collar, putting it on the inside his thigh. His breath catches against my mouth as I slide it up until it’s between his legs. 

I lift my eyes up to look at him and he’s watching me, biting his lip. He sees the question in my eyes and nods again, so I slowly start to rub him through the fabric. He moves his hands to my hair and grips it tightly. 

“You okay?”

“Mmm. Yeah. That’s… good.” 

I smile and kiss him again and he leans into it, gasping slightly when I move to undo his zipper. 

“Tell me if I’m going too fast.”

He laughs. “Monty. Just touch me, will you?”

“Bossy.”

I get his trousers and boxers out of the way and my hand reaches his skin. He groans quietly, screwing his eyes tightly closed and I pause. 

“Are you paying attention?”

“What?” He forces his eyes back open to look at me. “Yes. I mean— what? I think so.”

“I’m just checking. I don’t want to just fly through this and you don’t even pick up any tips.”

“Monty, I’m… I’m paying attention. Promise. Just get on with—  _ oh _ …”

I start to move my hand, which somewhat effectively shuts him up. 

“Start slowly. And gently.” I smirk when he nods frantically. “It’s not a fail safe, but think of what feels best when you do this to yourself. In a way, it’s quite simple.”

“Simple,” he manages to choke out. “Right.”

I talk him through what I’m doing at every step. Explain every change of pace and movement. And to his credit, he seems to listen, though his breath is getting steadily more uneven and his eyes less focused. 

“Everyone is different, so you have to pay close attention to how they’re responding. What in particular is getting—“ I try one of my best tricks and he moans, so loudly it surprises both of us. I laugh. “—a reaction.”

He laughs too, breathless. I kiss him and he moves his hands to my shoulders, pulling me closer. I can tell he’s close when his nails start to dig into my skin. I break the kiss and lean up, whispering against his ear. “Come for me, darling.”

Works every time. 

He shudders and I work him through it, kissing his ear, then moving again to his lips, pressing a few gentle kisses against them until he finally stills and starts to catch his breath. 

He opens his eyes and looks at me. God, I hope this wasn’t too much for him. I hope he doesn’t— 

“That  _ was  _ fun,” he says, then breaks into a grin and I laugh, letting go of him and wiping my hand on my shirt before giving him a gentle shove. 

“Well, I’m glad you approve. Lesson rating?”

He frowns slightly, still a little breathless and fixing himself back into his trousers. “Oh. Is that— is the lesson over?”

“You don’t want it to be?”

“Well, I thought perhaps…” He motions vaguely to me. “I could have a go?”

“Oh! I mean… absolutely. If you want to.”

He frowns. “Is that not how it usually works? Returning the favour? It seems only polite.”

I roll my eyes, picturing a certain understudy. “Not with everyone, no.”

He pauses, then smirks, rolling on top of me. I can’t help but giggle slightly. 

“Well, hello. Is this your version of polite, Percy Newton?”

“Perhaps it is.” 

He cups my face with both of his hands, leaning in to kiss me. I can’t help but notice his somewhat nervous energy has calmed a little. His hands are steady when he takes one from my cheek and moves down to undo my fly. 

He smiles into the kiss, then pulls away to look at me. 

“Fully warmed up now, I see.”

“Very observant. Top marks.” He pulls my trousers and underwear down just enough, then gently slides a hand inside. Everything about him is more gentle than the last person who had his hand between my legs. Even the skin on his hands is soft. I take a breath. “Do you want— do you want me to give you directions or…?”

“Uhh…” He looks down, then back up at me. “Perhaps? Some?”

I nod and he starts to move his hand. Somewhat enthusiastically. I gasp slightly then grab his wrist. 

“Slowly, remember, darling. You want to make me feel good, you’re not trying to light kindling.”

He smiles apologetically, then nods, slowing right down. I drop my head back onto the pillow with a sigh. 

“That’s right. Now… remember what I told you about—  _ ah _ ! Mmm. Okay, never mind. You’ve got it. Carry on.”

He smiles, looking smug, then leans down to kiss me again. After a while, I start to wonder if he’s picturing that freckled lad. I mean… with this level of enthusiasm, I can only imagine he is. I can hardly complain if this is the result. 

“You can speed up a little.”

He does. My hands fly up to his back, gripping handfuls of his shirt. 

“Good. That’s good. Keep going. Just like that.” 

My toes start to curl against the sheets. 

“Percy, I’m— I’m close.”

“Oh.” He  _ freezes.  _ “Shit. Sorry.”

I whine, grabbing his wrist again and moving it for him. “That does  _ not _ mean stop.”

He starts moving again and he laughs, ( _ laughs _ !) and that’s enough to push me over. He watches my face, looking somewhat mesmerised, as I ride it out, biting my lip in an attempt to keep any embarrassing noises at bay. 

When I’m finished, he places a gentle kiss to my cheek, then lets go of me, rolling over onto his back. 

“Wow,” he says quietly. 

I take a few deep breaths, then look over at him. “Wow?”

“Yeah, that was… different than I was expecting.”

“Elaborate.”

He laughs slightly. “I don’t know. I didn’t know that actually… doing it to someone was fun.”

I grin. “Oh, Perce. Already, you’re turning out to be such a generous lover.” He narrows his eyes at me. “I have taught you well, young Jedi.”

He groans, grabbing a pillow and holding it over his face. 

“That’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever said to me,” he says, muffled. “And that’s quite a feat.”

“Sorry, darling.”

I lean over to my bedside table, grabbing a packet of wipes and I clean myself up before doing up my trousers. I look up and he’s lifted the pillow to watch me. I raise my eyebrows and pull out a couple of wipes, offering them to him. 

“That somewhat ruins the mood, doesn’t it?”

“I mean… we can try and make it sexy.”

I wiggle my eyebrows at him and he looks confused, before I pounce on him, rolling on top. He squeals and tries to wrestle me off of him, laughing. 

“ _ Monty _ ! How is this helping?!”

“Wrestling always helps!”

He shrieks as I try to put a wipe under his shirt, laughing then rolling me over and pinning me. I laugh, then the sound gets stuck in my throat, as I realise how close together our faces have ended up. Percy’s nose is basically brushing against mine and he’s out of breath. 

“Hello,” he says, but it comes out as more of a breathy gasp. 

“Hi.”

He stares at me for a moment, looking suddenly serious, then leans down to kiss me. Just as our lips meet, an obnoxiously loud buzzing sound comes from my bedside cabinet and I jump, looking over at it. 

“Shit. Sorry.”

He clears his throat and climbs off of me, lying back on the bed. I sit up and lean over to pick up the phone, looking at the screen. My heart sinks. 

“It’s my father.”

“Oh.” 

I watch him for a few seconds, then he eventually looks back at me. 

“ _ Oh. _ ” He awkwardly points to the door. “Do you want me to…?”

“Yes. Sorry. It’s just… he never calls me. Might be important.”

“Of course! That’s fine! It’s not like I was…” He climbs off of the bed, attempting to fix his hair. “… I dunno. Expecting you to make me breakfast or something.”

“I really am sorry, Perce. But that was good! We’ll catch up soon! Go through some comments.”

He gives me a slightly horrified look. “You have comments?”

“I always have comments, darling.”

“Great.” I give him an apologetic smile and he gives me a rather adorable little wave. “I’ll text you, okay?”

He walks out and as the door closes, I groan, lying back on the bed and putting the phone to my ear. 

“Hello, father.”


	5. Lesson 5: Mouth Stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings for referenced abuse, self loathing, and a few sexual innuendos.

**PERCY**

“It is _infinitely_ better. You’re deluding yourself.”

“How can it be better? British queens are so low-budget.”

Sim pulls a face, disgusted. “Take that back.”

Our teacher is late for our combined music and theatre class. I’m passing the time by doodling violins on my notebook and half-listening to Sim and Johanna’s conversation next to me.

“British _queens_? Plural?” They both look at me. “I’m lost.”

“What kind of homosexual are you, Perce?” Sim scoffs at me. “Drag Race! UK versus US!”

“I’ve… never watched it. Should I hand in my gay card?”

Johanna laughs. “Immediately. You had a good run.”

“Did he though?” Sim says, giving me an evil grin. 

I narrow my eyes and she shrugs, turning back to Johanna, presumably to continue their speculation about me being a closet heterosexual. I really wish I’d just stayed out of it. I was fairly content drawing my tiny violins and letting my mind wander back to the last lesson I paid any real attention to. 

Not for the first time, I’m wondering what Sim would make of my… _arrangement_ with Monty. Would she be proud? Concerned? Amused? A combination of the three?

The flirting tips she could definitely get behind—anyone who has witnessed me attempt to speak to August first hand would be very glad I was getting some outside assistance. 

Handjob classes however? I’m not sure I could convince her that it wasn’t anything like as seedy as it sounds. That it was… nice. Respectful. _Fun._ And felt a billion times better than anything I’ve ever managed with my own hand. Monty didn’t seem too displeased with my return efforts that afternoon either, if the noises he was trying to stifle were anything to go by. Oh, and he also complimented my kissing. 

Wait. 

Am I— could I possibly be— kind of _good_ at this stuff?

I consider this strange new possibility for a moment, then start when I spot August across the room. My first instinct is to hide under the table, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed me. _Calm down._ He’s talking to his friend, the dark-haired one, until the latter stands up. I catch a snip of conversation about a forgotten textbook. Dark-haired boy exits the room, leaving August alone, resting his cheek on his fist, idly fiddling with a pencil.

Then he looks over his shoulder, at me.

I immediately look away, hoping he didn’t catch me staring. My heart is pounding. Sim doesn’t seem to have noticed, as she’s still talking to Johanna, which means I haven’t made a complete fool out of myself.

_God, Percy, get a grip._

I take a deep breath, then force myself to look back. I almost jump out of my skin to see August is still looking in my direction. Wait. Wasn’t there something about this in Monty’s lessons? I don’t have time to ponder it, as August gives me a half-smile and a little wave, and I have to decide on a course of action. Look away again? No, that’s dismissive, he just smiled at me. Eventually I settle on an awkward smile back, with a nod. There. That’s not trying too hard, is it?

August picks his pencil back up, focusing on the papers in front of him again. Then he catches my eye, points at the homework, and pulls a face. I laugh.

He quickly glances around, then, with a shrug, he gets up and comes over.

I watch him like a deer frozen in the headlights, unable to move. Which beats bolting, I suppose. He grabs a chair from the table in front of me, turns it and sits down.

“Hey! Crabs Boy. It’s been a while.”

I cringe. “Please, I’m in my civilian identity. Call me Percy.”

He snorts at that, and my heart jumps. He just laughed. I actually made him laugh. “Very well. Percy.”

“Are you struggling with the assignment too?” It slips out of me. But before I can overthink it, August groans.

“ _God_ , it’s killing me. And I really need to do well on it, too, after I flunked that solo last week. Can’t exactly fail this subject.”

I frown. “Last week? What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on, you don’t have to spare my feelings. I completely misplaced my fingers in the second part. I think I caused the room hearing damage.”

I shrug. “I think you recovered well, though.”

He perks up at that. “Aw, really?”

“Yeah! Besides, you’re one of the most talented people in this class. Mr Parker would be mad to fail you.”

He looks down, then up at me through his eyelashes, all shy. “You really think so?”

“August…” I rest my elbow on the table so it’s brushing his, and lean in slightly. “I really don’t mean to talk poorly about anyone, because I _know_ how hard it is, but… some musicians?” He nods, indicating he’s following, and—oh my God, he’s actually leaning in closer— “They’re just playing notes. You’re making music.”

His eyes widen, and I may be imagining it, but I think he’s blushing. He pulls back a little bit and rubs his shoulder, laughing awkwardly. My gaze briefly drops to his neck, trying to spot the presence of freckles, then I snap my eyes back to his face before he notices. “That might be one of the nicest things anyone’s said to me. But it’s not true.”

“It is, though! You’ve got a real passion and that shows, even on your lesser days.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And your authority on this is?”

“Me,” I say, then wince. “Okay, you may have a point there.”

“What point?” He gives me a challenging smirk. “You’re quite the talented musician yourself, Percy Newton.”

I smile. “Thank you.”

We both look up as the teacher enters. August gets up and puts his chair back into place. “Time to go. But I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Bye.” I smile and wave after him as he returns to his seat. I feel oddly at peace, and with a happy sigh, I take out my notes.

“ _What_ just happened?”

Sim is gaping at me like I’ve grown an extra head. She struggles for words for a bit, then gestures wildly after August.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, I was just talking to August for a bit.”

“You.” She points at me. “Were talking. _Actually talking_. To him?” She nods at August, wide-eyed.

“Yes? It’s not that hard.” I can’t help but feeling smug.

Sim presses herself back in her seat, squinting at me. “Who are you and where are you holding Percy Newton hostage?”

I roll my eyes with a laugh. “Can’t you just be happy for me?”

“Well, no. Not until I understand what kind of changeling you’ve been replaced with.”

The teacher indicates he wants to start the lesson, so we quiet down. I subtly take out my phone and find my conversation with Monty.

**Me:** you’re not gonna believe it BUT

 **Me:** i just had a conversation with august!

 **Me:** i think i even flirted with him??? a bit??

 **Me:** also don’t you have this class?

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** perhaps

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** i slept in, heavy night, you know how it is

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** but hey that’s great!!! love that for u

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** if my lessons are turning out this successful i might have to start charging ;)))) i could make a living out of this

 **Me:** monty that would literally be prostitution

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** mmmmmmaybe so

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** anyway are u up for lesson #5 today?

I hesitate. It took me quite a few days to find the courage for last lesson, but that turned out to pretty alright. More than alright, in fact. And I must still be a bit on an adrenaline high from my conversation with August, because I type:

**Me:** sure! your room, after classes?

 **Help me Obi Wan Kenobi you’re my only hoe:** i’ll be counting the seconds <3

  
  
  


I reach Monty’s room after my last class of the day and I take a deep breath, knocking on the door. Although these lessons terrify me far less than they did at the start, my heart is always in my throat by the time I get to this point.

I feel better the moment Monty opens the door and grins at me, but then I frown as he grabs the hem of my shirt without hesitation and pulls me inside, slamming the door closed behind me. I stumble slightly when he lets go, holding onto his desk to get my balance.

“So!” He claps his hands, then rubs them together, standing in front of me. “What are we onto today?”

“Uh. Hi. Hello. Class was great, thanks for asking.“

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. Devastated I missed it. Obviously.” He scrapes a hand through his hair, looking fidgety, and gives me a huge smile again. Although it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes as it normally does. 

“No time to waste, however! Idle hands are the devil’s playground, after all.” He tilts his head. “Oh wait! Hands was last week. Well— I’m sure the devil has a splendid time with idle _mouths_ , too.”

I laugh slightly. “I suppose so. So how are yo—“

Before I can finish he surges forward and pulls me towards him by the back of my neck, pressing his lips hard against mine. I make a surprised noise into his mouth but he doesn’t seem to notice, walking us backwards until my arse hits his desk and I sit down involuntarily. 

My legs fall open and he crowds up in between them, deepening the kiss and planting his hands either side of my hips, onto the surface of the desk. His kisses seem more frantic than usual. And he’s not… talking. These lessons are usually punctuated with guidance and reassurance. This seems less like a lesson and more like…

He reaches for my belt and I start. “Wait. Monty.” I manage to push him away and break the kiss long enough to speak. “Steady on.”

“What? Why?” He’s breathless and flustered. It looks odd on him. “Are you not enjoying this?”

“Something’s bothering you.”

“Not at all!” He leans in to kiss me again and I let him briefly, then gently push him away again. “ _Perce_! I’m fine! I’m just keen to get on with the lesson, that’s all.”

“There’s no hurry! We can slow down. _Way_ down, in fact.”

He stares at me for a couple of seconds, then blanches, stepping away. 

“Oh God. Sorry. You’re not even into this, and I’m being—”

“No! No, no. It’s not like that. I’m into this. I’m just… I feel like you’re… not okay.”

“I…” He grasps for words for a moment, looking mortified. It seems to hit him, all at once. “ _Shit_ . This is your first time for all of this and you’re here—I’m supposed to make this nice for you, I’m supposed to make sure you’re comfortable because this is about _you_ and I… I was rushing you into things because…” His breathing gets heavy, and too fast.

“Hey, Monty, calm down. This isn’t about me. I’m fine. I’m just worried about you.”

“No, I’m sorry, I messed up and I– _Fuck_. Um, could we maybe start over?”

“What? No. Monty, what’s going on?”

“Nothing! It’s fine. Everything is fine.” He forces out a laugh. “Everything’s… Yeah. So. Uh. Mouth stuff. The stuff with the mouth.”

“Monty…”

“Yes. Our lessons.” He runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head as if he’s snapping out of something. “I am nothing if not a professional, so—”

“Monty. _Listen to me._ ” His head snaps up. “We are not doing this today.”

“Wh… Why not? Because of me? I can pull it together, don’t worry. I’ve done it a million times before. I’m fine.”

“You… what?” I frown. “Monty?”

“I’m fine, I promise. Now can we do this?”

“What? No. Absolutely not.”

“But it’s…” He trails off, wide-eyed. “I have to be good for this. If I’m not good for this, then—”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean, I’m not…” He gestures wildly. “I’m not good for anything else. I’m not good at… _school_ , or _friends_ , hell, Richard’s probably right, I’m not that good of an actor, either. I’m just lying to myself. God, what am I even doing here? What was I trying? I should’ve just gone to business school like Father said, and then I wouldn’t be in this mess right now. If I’d just listened to my father then—he was right all along, I’m worthless without him, I’m useless and a burden and I’ll never make it without his help and—oh God, I won’t make it without his help. Shit. What did I do? What did I—”

“Monty, hey, calm down—” I step toward him and reach out a hand but he flinches back violently, tripping over his own feet. I grab his arms to stop him from falling, but that seems to alarm him even more—his eyes go wide in terror. He tries to pull from my grip. “Please, let me–”

I let go like I’ve burned myself, and this time he falls for real. He yelps as he hits the floor, shoulders pulled up. For a long moment we just stare at each other, mortified.

Then a sob tears from his throat.

It seems to surprise us both. Monty’s hand flies to his mouth, as if he’s trying to stop it, but it has the opposite effect—he starts crying for real, with heaving breaths and shaking shoulders, and tears falling down his cheeks. He pulls up his knees and hides his face in his arms. He looks so small and vulnerable, and I have no idea what to do.

For a long time, I just stare at him, frozen in place. Monty’s crying harder than I’ve seen anyone cry in my life, great rolling sobs that rip through his body and choked sounds escaping him.

“Monty?” I ask quietly.

The only response I get is a sob.

“I…” I hesitate. “I’m going to come sit down next to you, okay?”

He doesn’t react immediately. Eventually, he nods slightly. I can barely tell, with how hard he’s shaking. I slowly approach him, sitting down a foot beside him. He doesn’t look up. I lift a hand but I’m not sure I can reach out again.

“Monty, can I hug you?”

Another long pause, then, a strangled, “Yes, please.”

I move over and take him in my arms. He presses his face against my chest and tries to stifle his crying. I run my hands over his shoulders and through his hair, whispering reassurances in his ear, letting him cry however long he needs to.

After a bit, he quiets down. His sobs lapse into teary hiccups and he’s not trembling as badly anymore. I keep rubbing circles into his shoulder blades, and he presses his forehead into the crook of my neck.

I press my lips together, hesitating. “I… I’ll only ask this once, and you don’t have to answer, but… what the fuck happened?”

He swallows, then I feel a puff of breath on my neck as he huffs. “I didn’t know our arrangement included listening to each other’s life stories.”

“We’re friends now. Like it or not. And you watched me have a seizure then listened to all of my messed up shit, so… your turn.”

He sighs, taking a few deep breaths, but still doesn’t speak. “So,” I say, gently squeezing him. “Life story.”

Very quietly, he says, “I saw my father.”

“Right.” I nod, encouraging him. “And it didn’t go well?”

“He found my Twitter account.”

I pause. That’s… not what I was expecting. “Right.”

“He didn’t approve.”

“Monty… what the fuck is on your Twitter account?”

He sighs, exasperated, finally breaking the hug, but not moving away. When he speaks, he sounds a little more like himself, although there’s still a tremor to his voice. “Nothing! Everything! I make dirty jokes. I talk about things. Parties. Hook ups. I… flirt with people. Nothing _that_ bad! But somehow he found it. And I use my last name on there, so I suppose…” He rubs his eyes, as if trying to shake off a headache. ”...God, I am such an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot. What was the problem? Does he— did he know you’re—“ I don’t finish, and instead motion to what he’s wearing. It’s fairly tame by his standards, a t-shirt and sweatpants, but topped with a fluffy cardigan in the colours of the bisexual pride flag. 

“Oh yes, he knew. We’ve had many animated discussions about it, in fact. He’s not terribly keen on the idea. He’s especially not keen on any of his _business partners_ knowing about it.”

I frown. “What is this, 1964? Why would his business partners care about your personal life?”

“Well, Perce. That’s what I said. Well— more along the lines of ‘mind your own fucking business’.” He sighs, dropping his head back until it hits his bed with a thud. “Didn’t go down terribly well.”

I think back to his reaction a moment ago, when I reached out to comfort him. My heart sinks. 

“Is he— was he violent with you?”

He laughs slightly, with no mirth whatsoever. “Ah. No. You’d know if he’d hit me.” He motions to his face. “He likes to make it show.”

“ _Jesus_ , Monty.”

He doesn’t respond, staring up at the ceiling. I try to pair together the Monty I thought I was getting to know and this Monty sitting next to me. The confidence I admire so much seems to have been physically squeezed out of him. 

“So what _did_ happen? Clearly it was something.”

“He told me I need to start ‘behaving’ or he would finally cut me off.” He swallows. “I told him to fuck off, so…”

“Good! I mean— that’s good! Standing up to him. Right?”

He gives me a look, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yes. Fantastic. I now have no money. I can’t afford this course. This room. Food. It’s brilliant news. I’m ecstatic.”

Ah yes. Brutal sarcasm. Much more Monty. Perhaps that hug helped a little. “Monty, you do know that plenty of people go to university without rich parents, right?”

He grunts. So I continue. 

“There are loans. You can work.”

This time, he snorts. 

“Bar work. You’d enjoy bar work. You can flirt the entire time. You’d make a fortune in tips.” I nudge him with my elbow. “There are openings at the campus library. Weekend jobs.”

“Why are you trying to help me?”

I frown. “Why _wouldn’t_ I try to help you?”

“Because I don’t deserve it? Because I couldn’t just be a responsible adult for a couple of years of my life and—“

“Since when is university the time for being a responsible adult?” He rolls his eyes slightly. “Monty. It’ll be _fine_. You are fine. This is fine. I’m here and I’ll help you.”

He pauses for a while, absent-mindedly playing with a fraying hair on my jumper, then looks back up at me. “You really think I’d be good at bar work? I’ve never… _worked_ before.”

“You might surprise yourself.”

“Mmm.” He takes a deep breath. “God. I’m so sorry about this.”

I reach over and gently poke his cheek. “About what?”

“This mess. You came over for a blowjob and ended up dealing with a full on mental breakdown.”

I laugh. “I didn’t come over for— I mean, technically, yes, but that makes me sound awful.”

“What for? Nothing wrong with a blowjob between friends.”

I snort.

“Speaking of.” He rubs his eyes, sitting up. “We should get to that. Enough time wasted.”

“Wh– Monty. Are you seriously suggesting we get back to the lesson? After all that?”

“Yes. Why not? It’s why you came here. To come.”

“I– You are unbelievable sometimes, you know that?”

“I’ll admit, I’ve made better puns.”

I look at him for a long time, failing at biting down a smile. Then I shake my head and get up. “Come on. Off the floor.”

I lend him a hand. He watches me curiously.

“Get on the bed,” I say, while I grab his laptop.

He cocks an eyebrow, but does as he’s told. “Oh, I see. Bossing me around already. You know, I charge extra if you want to do anything kin—”

“Scoot over.” He makes space for me and I sit down next to him on the bed, pulling the blanket over us. “Favourite movie. Go.”

“Wh– what?”

“We’re gonna watch a movie. You pick.”

“Shouldn’t… Shouldn’t I _do_ something about… the shitshow my life has become?”

“Later. First, you’re gonna relax. You’ve had a rough day.”

He looks up at me in disbelief. A smile starts tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”

  
  


Turns out, much to my surprise, Monty’s favourite movie is The Empire Strikes Back. Or maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, as he managed to crowbar in a Yoda reference during a lesson on handjobs. 

We’re cuddled up under the blanket, Monty resting his head on my shoulder as we watch the climax of the movie. I shove a handful of crisps in my mouth (Monty found them in his roommate’s drawer) as Darth Vader corners Luke Skywalker, making his great revelation. Monty hasn’t spoken for a while, but he yawns and motions to the screen. 

“See, it could be worse.”

“What could be?”

“My daddy issues.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Yes. I suppose your father could be in charge of an evil space empire.”

“I’d make a cute sci fi hero, wouldn’t I?”

I look at him, then back at the screen. “Yes, I suppose.”

“Then again, I’d make a cute anything.” He blinks up at me, giving me a sleepy grin. “How does it feel to be doing all these ‘firsts’ with the most _gorgeous_ boy on campus?”

“Can we go back to your breakdown? The arrogance is actually more off putting.”

“You adore it.” He shrugs. “Although I suppose I’m not really your type, am I? April and I couldn’t be more different.”

“Monty, I don’t mean to feed your ego any further but… I think you’re everyone’s type.”

He scoffs. “Their type for a quick fuck, perhaps.”

I frown. “Is that what you think?”

“The evidence is pretty conclusive, Perce. Plenty of notches on the bedpost but not a lot else.”

“I suppose I just assumed… that was how you preferred it.”

“Well. I dunno. It’s easier. This way no one has to hang around and pretend they’re interested in me.”

I tilt my head at that. “Do you really think you’re not interesting? You careen into class forty five minutes late in a rainbow fur coat and you think you’re dull?”

He pauses. “Perhaps I’m overcompensating.”

I reach up and run a hand through his hair. He leans into it slightly. 

“Monty… perhaps we shouldn’t do this anymore.”

He frowns, moving his head away to get a good look at me. “Do what?”

“This. The… course.” He frowns even harder and I sigh. “I don’t want to contribute to this idea you have of— this idea that sex is all you have to offer.”

“Wha— you don’t contribute to anything of the sort! Perce, that’s not what this is about.”

I laugh slightly. “Isn’t it? You’re showing me how to have sex. Like it’s the only valuable knowledge you can provide.”

“I never said it was the _only_ valuable knowledge. It just happens to be… a thing I’m good at. And enjoy. And I wanted to help you out.”

“Monty…”

“Perce.” He sits up, taking my chin between his thumb and index and turning my face toward him. “Listen to me. I don’t really know how to explain, but… even though it was the initial goal, it’s become something more than just the sex. _You’ve_ made it something more. Because we have fun! And we talk. And… I don’t know. You’re just… one of the few people who actually make me feel like I deserve better.”

I study him, searching for any insincerity in his expression. But it’s open, honest in fatigue. He smiles at me.

“So it’s still your choice, obviously. But please know that I’ve genuinely enjoyed the time I’ve spent with you so far. And I’d like to keep it up.”

I smile and sigh, leaning back against the pillow again. “All right.” Monty rests his head on my shoulder again, and I run my fingers through his hair. “You know…” I say after a while. “Even… even if it doesn’t work out with August, I’m glad I decided to do this. I’m glad we became friends.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I look down at him and notice a content smile on his face.

He yawns again. “How much is left of this?”

“It’s your favourite movie. You tell me.” I suddenly can’t help but notice that he can barely keep his eyes open. “I can turn it off?”

“Mmm.” He shakes his head. “No. S’nice. This is nice.”

“You’re exhausted. I should go.”

He pouts. “At least stay until I’m asleep? Apparently mental breakdowns make me needy.”

I hum. “Okay.”

Monty has his eyes closed throughout the ending of the movie, but when I try and get up to put his laptop away, he clings to me. I settle for putting the thing down on the floor, then lie down beside him. I watch him for a bit. His face is still a little red from crying, but he looks peaceful.

I think he may have fallen asleep, but then his eyes flutter open. His face is right next to mine and my heart skips for a second. He smiles at me, a genuine smile. “Thank you,” he mutters.

I cup his cheek. “What friends are for.”

He watches me through his eyelids, then, he slowly moves in and places a soft peck on my lips. When he lies back down, he rests his head on my shoulder.

“Night, Percy,” he whispers.

I put my arm around him. “Night, Monty,” I whisper back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3 kudos and comments make our day!!


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